Roles Reversed
by Jak Pickens
Summary: What if Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle had been intentionally switched at birth in a plot to prevent Bruce from becoming the Dark Knight of Gotham?
1. Pilot: The Switch

**A/N: So, I randomly had this thought the other day: What if Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle had been switched at birth?**

 **I rewrote the pilot after realizing how rushed and flat the original was. I felt as though I could've done** _ **so**_ **much better had I not rushed it, so I took down the original and reposted this.**

 **And without further ado, I give you** _ **Role's Reversed**_ **.**

 **Pilot: The Switch**

It was February 19th.

No one knew at the time, but Gotham's Dark Knight was about to be born.

Martha Wayne was rushed into the hospital, already in labor and yelling from the birth pains. A frazzled Thomas Wayne ran alongside her, holding her hand and trying to tell her everything was going to be okay, even though was practically shaking with a mix of anticipation and fear.

It was finally happening; they were going to be parents of a little boy or girl. Neither he nor his wife had wanted to know what sex their first child would be, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

She was pulled into a hospital room where they were separated, and the labor continued for another two hours. During this, Thomas nearly pulled the majority of his hair out while he stood outside the room, listening for a cry.

Finally, a baby started to scream from inside the room and Thomas dropped to the ground in relief and utter joy.

And that was when everything took a dark turn.

A nurse yelled, "Something's wrong, take him next door, stat!"

A young, black nurse took the baby boy through a curtain that separated the three conjoining rooms from each other.

Another young woman was waiting there, also with a wailing newborn, a little girl with beautiful green eyes.

The nurses' next actions would change the fate of Gotham forever.

They switched the babies.

Nodding curtly to one another, they both returned to their respective rooms.

The young woman told Mrs. Wayne, "Congratulations, it's a girl!"

Next door, a similar scene was taking place.

The other female nurse handed the baby boy to a beautiful, blonde mother who looked at him with nothing but love in her eyes.

The new mother beamed at the nurse as she announced, "Congratulations Miss Kyle, you're the mother of a beautiful baby boy."

* * *

Bruce Kyle and Selina Wayne would've never met.

Their paths would've never crossed except for by chance.

Bruce grew up in the Narrows with his mom, always a bit of a troublemaker but it was always in good fun.

Life was good for him.

As he got older, he started to notice his mom becoming more and more distant, often forgetting to make dinner, or locking her door all day.

Bruce thought nothing of it.

One day when he was five, however, he came home from playing with the stray cats to find his apartment empty, his mother nowhere to be seen.

He didn't think anything of it, as his mom was always coming and going.

It wasn't until it was past his bedtime when he realized something was wrong. He put himself to sleep, and, when he woke up, she still hadn't come home.

He walked across the hall into his mother's room and found that her drawers had been emptied and her suitcase was gone. Confused, he searched the room for any hint as to where his mother was.

He found nothing except for a locket. A little necklace that he'd never seen his mother wear, but, at least it was something.

Hours passed, which turned into days, and then a week.

It took that long, over a week, for Bruce to realize that his mother had left him.

Obviously, he did what any five year-old would do in that situation: he cried.

At some point, his little, stubby legs brought him out of his apartment and out onto the streets of the Narrows.

He walked for who knows how long, tears and snot running down his face as he wailed for his mother.

His feet carried him into the road. He didn't care that a car was barreling down on him at forty five miles an hour, he didn't even notice.

That was almost it.

The Dark Knight of Gotham would've never been created. The city left to defend itself from the onslaught of crazy that was about to arrive.

Thank God, someone thought otherwise.

Two strong arms reached out and picked him up like he was nothing, swinging him back to safety on the sidewalk just as the car passed. The car missed him by mere inches.

Bruce kept on crying, but through his tears he was able to make out a face. A big, burly man with a neatly trimmed beard was holding him by his shoulders, asking him who he was. The man eventually pulled Bruce into a hug and held him there until he calmed down enough to answer his questions.

The man told him in a soft, comforting voice, "Hi, little one. I'm Henry Grant. What's your name?"

"B-B-Bruce…" he sniffed. "Bruce Kyle."

"Bruce. It's nice to meet you Bruce. Can you tell me what you were doing in the street? Where is your mommy?"

Bruce's eyes welled up with tears again, and he started crying.

From there, Henry brought Bruce back to the gym that he ran and lived at. He gave Bruce food, clothes, a home, and even a kind of older brother in his son, Ted Grant.

It took a couple weeks, but Bruce eventually adapted to his new life.

He liked living with the Grant's, and they liked his company as well.

Later on, Bruce would learn that Henry's wife had been killed and it had just been Henry and Ted for two years. Bringing Bruce into the family seemed to be what they all needed.

Bruce slept in the loft above Henry's gym most nights, usually waking up early to train with Ted.

Ted was a boxing prodigy, and for the first few years Bruce always got the living shit beat out of him. But, even then, he loved fighting.

As well as becoming a really good fighter, Bruce was also known in the area for his pick pocketing skills and his odd ability to practically disappear into thin air.

He'd learned a lot about pick pocketing from the other street kids. In particular, a kid with a constant, crazy grin named Jack had taken Bruce under his wing about doing illegal stuff. He'd never quite liked Jack, but the older boy seemed to have an odd, yet sincere fascination with him, so Bruce freely took his advice.

Sure, while Bruce was learning he got caught, a lot, but he always learned from his mistakes. Henry taught him that it was okay to make a mistake once, but if you made it twice, you were a fool.

Once again, life was good.

* * *

One particular night when he was twelve, he was running across the rooftops of the theater district. Being a seasoned street kid, he knew that running on a wet night like that one could be dangerous, but the danger of it was what made it fun.

He leapt onto a raised ledge of a building and took in the full view of Downtown Gotham. Breathing in the smoggy air from down below, he descended from his perch, dropping down onto the awning of a storefront and then down to the streets below.

He grinned. It was Friday night, a perfect time to hunt.

Spying a woman with overloaded shopping bags, he pulled his switchblade from his pocket and, in a flash, cut open the bottom of the bag. A single apple went rolling and he grabbed it off the ground. Not a few feet away, three men were standing at a corner, talking. As Bruce passed, he reached into one of their coat pockets and grabbed the chump's wallet. As soon as he did it, Bruce knew the guy would notice. When he'd removed the wallet, his arm had brushed up against the man's chest which would've been an odd, noticeable feeling.

Even then, he'd almost made a clean getaway when the man shouted for him to stop.

Needless to say…Bruce didn't stop

Instead, he rushed towards the side of a building, ran up the wall for three steps, and then grabbed the bottom of a fire escape ladder. As Bruce ascended, the man eventually gave up, so Bruce dropped down into an alley a couple blocks away.

Removing anything valuable, he pitched the empty wallet into a storm drain and was about to turn in for the night when he noticed three figures walking his way.

Not wanting to be seen so close to the crime scene, he quickly ducked into another fire escape and hid. However, he couldn't help but watch longingly as a happy family passed him; a father, mother, and beautiful girl around Bruce's age.

Unconsciously, Bruce's gloved hand drifted to his left breast pocket. Hidden away inside was the locket that he'd found all those years ago. For some reason, he found himself unable to get rid of the necklace.

He glanced down the alley and saw another figure approaching.

The little alarm in the back of his head started going off. The man was masked and clad completely in black.

Something was about to go wrong for the family, Bruce knew it.

When he reached the family, he pulled out a metal device, a pistol, and held it up at them.

Bruce should've just left. He'd done things similar to what this man was doing. He was probably just trying to get by like anyone else from Gotham.

However, he couldn't seem to tear himself away from the confrontation.

The father had stepped in front of the two girls and was clearly obliging to any demand made by their attacker. The father handed over his wallet and the woman's purse before the mugger pointed the gun at the woman's throat. She reached up to unhook her pearl necklace.

Even from a dozen feet away Bruce could see her hands shaking.

One of the strands broke and pearls went everywhere.

When the mugger seemed satisfied, he looked between the two parents. The little girl was still cowering behind her mother.

Then, the mugger shot the gun. Bruce's heart dropped and he recoiled from the shock of it. He saw the father drop, and then, a second shot fired and the mother fell to the ground. The mugger pointed the gun at the small girl.

Everything slowed down for Bruce. Everything went clear, like all his senses were peaked. He grabbed a stone from the ledge next to him and chucked it at a dumpster.

It made a loud, ringing noise when it hit, jarring the mugger's attention from the girl to the new sound. Thinking he'd been compromised, the man looked back at her and lowered his gun, running away from the scene.

That's when Bruce heard a sound that he would never forget.

The sound of Selina Wayne screaming.

Bruce, still in shock, just sat there watching the entire scene unfold.

First responders arrive, and they find the bodies there, as well as the girl.

They put a blanket around her and a female paramedic talks her down.

Bruce eventually tries to sneak away, but someone finally spotted him and the person barks at him to stop.

Bruce didn't stop.

Using his parkour abilities, he escapes the grasp of a police officer, ascending a few floors until he felt safe.

In hindsight, Bruce was ashamed that he left, but at the time he had been in shock from what he'd seen.

The sound would haunt him forever. The sound of utter terror and hopelessness that came from that girl, it rang through him constantly.

She was probably just around his age.

And to think…that could've been him had Fate given him a different hand.

But it hadn't. He was just a street kid, nothing special.

At least, not yet anyways.

* * *

It was the next morning when he found out who'd been killed that night in the alley.

Henry dropped his cup of coffee when he saw the headline.

 _ **Thomas and Martha Wayne killed by mugger, leaving their only daughter, Selina Wayne, behind.**_

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who review on my original Pilot. I've already started planning out the rest of the series. It may be a few weeks before I post the next chapter, as in the past I've started projects on here before and never finished them because I didn't have an ending.**

 **Thanks for reading and make sure to review and follow so you know when the next chapter comes out! Ciao!**


	2. Selina Wayne

**A/N: Do to overwhelming requests for me to continue this series, here's Chapter 2!**

 **Selina Wayne**

It hadn't been 24 hours since Bruce had seen the Wayne murders when it was announced on TV that the main suspect had been killed by the GCPD.

A couple hours after that, it was announced that the suspect had in fact been guilty, meaning that the entire thing was over.

Bruce was beyond relieved.

The whole thing still freaked him out. Granted, he should've been used to stuff like that, people dying.

But this one felt different, like it meant more than he currently knew.

Of course, the death of a few billionaires was much more important than that of a few street kids. Bruce spat on the floor of the boxing ring at the thought. Why was anyone more important than anyone else? They were all human, they should all matter.

Bruce snapped back to reality when Ted snapped a straight jab at his face. They'd been sparring for almost an hour and Bruce's adopted brother was getting tired of him losing focus so much. Bruce just barely deflected it, but Ted didn't stop. A few punches later Bruce was flat on his back.

Looming over him, Ted asked, "What's up with you, kid?"

Bruce cocked his head to the side in fake confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ted began, reaching down a hand to help Bruce up, "you aren't focused today and you seemed pretty shaken up last night. So…what's up?"

"I'm just…off, I guess." Bruce shook his head. "I'm fine. Wanna go again?"

Ted shook his head. "Nah, I gotta go clean the showers before dad gets home."

Bruce nodded and made his way out of the ring.

He _was_ off, and Ted could see it. He needed to keep his guard up, better.

* * *

A few weeks passed after the Wayne murders and Bruce's life had almost returned back to normal.

He'd even gotten back into his pick pocketing routine, meaning that he had to go see a Fence pretty soon. Recently, he'd started breaking into places to steal jewelry and stuff, which were things he couldn't live off of but if he sold them, he could make quite a bit of cash.

He'd only ever worked with a Fence named Tin who worked out of a fight club in the Narrows.

Bruce hated going there, and he felt as though it was a bad idea, but he ignored his gut and went anyways.

When he entered, he peaked into the ring to see who, or what, was currently fighting for the people's amusement. He was disgusted to see that two pit-bulls were tearing at each other while people threw stuff at them and jeered the dogs on.

Swallowing his objections, he just walked by and made his way to the back room. Two guards reached out to stop him, but from inside, a cheery voice called, "Fellas! Let the kid through, he's an old friend."

Bruce gave each of the guards a victorious smirk and strode into the room. Tin smiled his ugly, toothy grin at him. "Hey there, Brucey."

Bruce cringed inwardly at the nickname, but managed to keep a straight face. "Hey, Tin."

"What do ya got?"

Bruce pulled out a paper bag and started emptying it. Two watches, a pearl necklace, a wedding ring, and a pair of expensive-looking earrings fell out. Tin smiled greedily at the pile.

"How much do you want, kid?"

"Three-fifty," Bruce answered. Bruce knew he had an unnatural love for shiny things, meaning that if he offered Tin a deal that would be lower than most offers he gets, he'd take it.

Tin considered, and then nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking. Copper, pay the kid!" Tin reached out with both hands and pulled the pile towards himself.

A loud commotion erupted from the room next to them. Voices were shouting over the cheering of the crowd and a few gunshots were fired. Tin reached for his sawed-off shotgun and Bruce rushed for the window.

The door to Tin's office burst open and shouts started drowning out all of Bruce's coherent thoughts.

He eventually fell in line with the other people being arrested and was restrained for questioning.

* * *

A few hours later, Bruce was locked in the holding cells in the GCPD along with Tin and the majority of the people in the fight club.

Bruce sat down in the back corner of the cell, keeping everyone in front of him at all times. A lesson he'd learned early on was to never let anyone out of your sight if you could help it. That, and never trust someone who's friendly.

Even in the uncomfortable, hyperaware state he was in, Bruce eventually dosed off for an hour or two.

Bruce's head snapped up. There was a stabbing pain in his right shoulder and people in and out of the cell were yelling, creating utter chaos in the precinct. Two cops were already in the cell, holding back a man with a shank.

Bruce suddenly realized what was happening. He knew what the sharp pain was.

He'd been stabbed.

Doubling over in pain, he watched from the ground as two officers started beating down the man. They didn't stop until he was flat on the ground, completely motionless except for his heavy, ragged breaths.

They dragged him out by his arms and a doctor rushed in, surrounded by the officers who pushed the other inmates to the other corners of the cage. Bruce passed out somewhere in there and was in and out of consciousness throughout the cleaning and bandaging of his wound.

When he woke up again, the remnants of the pain was still there, but less sharp than it'd been earlier. A kind-looking woman smiled at him. She asked, "Can you tell me your name?" He cocked his head to the side and she told him, "I know your name, I just want to know if you know your name."

He nodded. "I'm Bruce."

"Bruce what?"

"What's it to you?" Bruce snapped at her.

She held her hands up and replied, "As long as you know it, that's all I need." She opened the door and called out into the hall, "He's all yours, Detective."

Even on the pain meds, Bruce's brain went on high alert. He was just formulating an escape when a man, presumably the detective, walked in and shut the door behind him.

Bruce's heart dropped.

It was the same guy that'd tried to stop him from running away from the crime scene those weeks ago. Apparently, he had gotten a good look at Bruce.

Bruce could see the recognition on the man's face, but he didn't ask about that. Instead, the Detective introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Detective Jim Gordon." He looked down at a chart and asked, "Bruce…Kyle, is it?"

Bruce nodded.

Gordon asked, "Well, Bruce, do you have any idea why that man in the holding cell attacked you?"

By the tone of his voice and facial expression, Bruce knew that Jim knew exactly the reason why, just that he was curious if Bruce also knew why the man attacked him.

Obviously, Bruce knew why.

"I think I have an idea," Bruce said vaguely. Jim nodded for him to go on and Bruce said, "I saw the Waynes get killed. Saw the whole thing plain as day," Bruce paused, and then lied, "I even saw the killer's face."

Jim's eyes went wide. "You saw the killer? How?"

"Before he pulled his mask up, he was wearing it around his neck."

"It was almost midnight in a dark alleyway, how would you have seen him?"

"I can see in the dark," Bruce answered, matter-o-factly.

Jim nodded. "And you think that the man with the shank was sent to, what, kill you?"

Bruce shrugged. "I never told anyone I was there, but maybe _someone_ ," he looked pointedly at Jim before continuing, "saw me leave." Moving onto a different note, Bruce lulled, "Streets talk, ya know, and I heard that your partner was the one that put Mario Pepper down. What if he was the wrong guy?" Bruce analyzed the Detective's expression and concluded, "You know you got the wrong guy, don't you?"

Jim looked at him quizzically. "Who told you all that?"

Bruce smirked. "You did…just now."

Jim shook his head in embarrassment. "How about this: I get you out of here and into protection, and you work with me on finding the real killer."

"Protection?" Bruce asked suspiciously. "Where?"

"I have a few places in mind. I'll make some calls."

* * *

Alfred bustled over to the telephone and picked up, announcing, "Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking."

Over the phone Gordon greeted, "This is Detective Gordon."

"Ah, 'ello Detective."

"Alfred, I need to ask you a big favor."

"What kind of favor, if you don't mind me asking?"

Jim sighed and then told him, "There's a kid from the Narrows that…he was there the night Thomas and Martha Wayne were killed. Now, I told you that I don't think we got the right man, and he confirmed it. I think this may be the key to finding their killer."

"I thought you said no witnesses had come forward. What's with the boy's change of heart?" Alfred questioned.

Jim answered truthfully, "We caught him trying to sell stolen necklaces and jewelry to a Fence."

"Ah, so, you want a _thief_ to stay with us…in the Manor…"

Jim sighed. "I know it sounds bad, but he seems to be Selina's age. As far as we know he doesn't have family and has been living on the streets his whole life. I think this could help everyone."

Alfred paused and Jim heard the telephone switch hands. A feminine voice said, "Hello, Detective."

"Hello, Selina. How's everything?"

"Good." Skipping the small talk, Selina asked, "What were you saying about a witness?"

Through the phone in the background, Jim could hear Alfred exclaim, "He's a bloody criminal!" but Selina seemed to ignore him.

Jim answered, "Yes. A witness…came forward and wants to trade protection for helping us with your parent's case."

"Well, we definitely have enough room." She paused and then confirmed, "Sure thing, we'd be happy to have him. What's his name again?" Selina asked.

Jim answered, "Bruce Kyle."

Selina felt a weird alarm go off in the back of her head at the name, but she ignored it. "Alfred can come pick him up if you need him to."

"No, that's alright. I'll drive Bruce myself, I could use the fresh air. Goodbye, Miss Wayne." Jim hung up.

Selina hung up the phone and turned back to see a glaring Alfred. Selina told him, "I'm going to do whatever I have to to find my parent's killer. _Whatever it takes_ , Alfred."

"And I'll be right there with you, Miss Wayne, but…shouldn't we be cautious? He's a criminal…"

"I don't give a damn what he is or isn't," Selina shot back. "Jim said he might be the key so I'm willing to give it a shot. Now, can you please go prepare a room for him, oh, and throw on some soup or something, I'm starved."

Alfred bit back a cheeky response and replied, "As you wish, Madam."

* * *

Jim and Bruce came around a couple hours later.

They pulled into the driveway to the Manor and Bruce's jaw dropped. "I'm gonna live there?" he asked, not really believing his turn of luck.

Jim nodded. "And try not to steal anything. This is the safest place I can put you that doesn't include jail, understand? If Mr. Pennyworth gives me a call, there's a cell in Juvie with your name all over it."

Bruce nodded, not really hearing him. "Yeah, yeah, no stealing, whatever." His eyes were still glued on the three story, mansion of a house they were approaching.

They pulled up and a man in a suit came bustling out of the front door. He opened Bruce's door for him and Bruce slowly climbed out of the car, taking in the entirety of the Wayne Manor in one look.

Jim told Alfred in a whisper, "Remember, I'm just one call away. If you need anything, don't hesitate."

Alfred took a good look at Bruce and responded, "Well, you'd better keep you phone on you then."

Jim nodded hesitantly and then turned to Bruce. "Be good."

He grinned mischievously, looking between the two adults. "Always."

Jim and Alfred exchanged a nervous glance before Jim bid farewell and drove out of the grounds.

When Alfred turned back to start telling Bruce all the rules he'd compiled, he was surprised to find the boy nowhere to be seen. "Bloody hell," Alfred muttered to himself.

* * *

Bruce had been wandering around the halls of the Manor for over half an hour when he found the vase. It looked old, probably Chinese, and very expensive. Picking it up, he felt its weight, shook it, and then tossed it into the air a few times.

Another voice jarred him from his thoughts. "I think it's from the Chinese Ming Dynasty, or something. Five…" Bruce turned back to her and her voice caught in her throat, "five hundred years old."

Bruce was sent into a moment of shocked silence. He knew he was coming to live with the girl and her butler, but he hadn't given much thought as to what to do when he actually met her. He'd seen her parents die…what was he supposed to say? Sorry?

Bruce smirked. "You can buy one just like it in Chinatown for five bucks." He set the vase back on its pedestal and turned back to her.

Bruce took his first good look at the girl and realized how beautiful she was. She was a bit taller than him, but it wasn't by much. Her short, curly hair framed her face near perfectly and Bruce caught himself wanting to stare at her piercing, green-blue eyes.

Selina was in the same boat. She'd never met the kid from the streets, and she hadn't even known he was there that night. He would obviously become a looker one day with his edged jaw line and dark, ruffled hair. His eyes were the thing that caught her attention, though. They were dark brown, but seemed too old for a kid of only twelve, like he'd seen things that'd aged him decades. Selina found herself getting lost in his gaze

They stood awkwardly for a few seconds before Bruce stuck out his hand. "I'm Bruce Kyle."

She stalled for a second and then shook his hand. "Selina Wayne. People call me Cat."

"Nice to meet ya, Cat."

 **A/N: And that was the second chapter! Bruce and Selina finally meet and the plot will start to thicken from here on out so stay tuned. I have the entire story plotted out so I should be able to post consistently until the end of Season 1. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Mansion Life Surprisingly Doesn't Suck

**A/N: Nothing much to say. Here's Chapter 3!**

 **Mansion Life Surprisingly Doesn't Suck**

Bruce started sizing up the slightly older girl. She may've been a bit older, but he looked to be the more mature of the two. He asked, "So, you live here?"

"Yep, it's pretty nice, I guess."

"Nice?" Bruce asked incredulously. "Your house is bigger than some apartment buildings I've stayed in."

She nodded. "So…you live in the Narrows?"

"Yeah," Bruce answered flatly.

"What's it like?" Selina asked.

"It's not as nice as here…" Bruce responded. He started walking down another corridor. "Where does this go?"

"The kitchen."

"Kitchen?" Bruce asked.

His stomach growled loudly and they shared a laugh. "Come on," Selina said, leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

Bruce's eyes went wide at the kitchen the size of his bedroom at home. "How many people live here again?" Bruce asked, already digging through a cabinet looking for a cup.

"Just me and Alfred," Selina replied coolly. She hopped up onto the countertop and told him, "Alfred'll be pissed if he finds you going through his stuff, by the way."

As if on cue, the butler came striding into the room. Spotting Bruce making a mess of his orderly cabinets, he exclaimed, "What the bloody…" but stopped himself. Taking a breath, he told Bruce in a calm but firm voice, "Lunch was served three hours ago. Dinner will be at six."

"I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind making something for you," Selina started.

"Yes _he_ would!" Alfred interrupted.

Bruce shrugged. "Whatever. I'll just grab something eat and then be outta your way, how about that?"

"How about…" Alfred began, slamming the cabinet door closed before the boy could do anymore damage, "I show you to your room, Mister Kyle."

Narrowing his eyes at the butler, Bruce just shrugged again. "Whatever, Jeeves," he said, quickly getting out of the kitchen before the butler could react.

" _Jeeves?_ Why you little…" Alfred began.

Selina told him, "Be nice, Alfred. He's our guest." Jumping down from off the counter, Selina passed him and coolly ordered, "And try to smile every now and then, you're kinda bringing down the mood." With that, she passed him and went to catch up with Bruce.

Alfred was left there, shaking his head. He muttered to himself, "Great, now there's two of them…" before bustling off to show his new guest to his room.

Selina caught the boy first and said, "Sorry about Alfred, he's a bit of a pain sometimes."

"No kidding," Bruce agreed.

"Come on, your room's just up here."

They went up a staircase and down a hallway or two. The entire time he'd been there, Bruce had been subconsciously mapping out the place, taking note of where everything was and different landmarks to help him navigate later on.

Selina led him to a pair of double doors and said, "This'll be your room, mine's just across the hall, and the study is right next to it."

"Study?" Bruce questioned.

"Yeah, it's where my dad went to read or learn or…study, I guess."

Bruce looked at her like she was crazy. "Learn? What's there to learn? You're a freaking billionaire…"

Selina hummed in agreement. "He used to play classical music for hours while he worked. My mom and I would play games or just do stupid kid stuff until he was done and then we'd have dinner. Sometimes we'd go see a movie or something…" Selina trailed off, remembering the night that they'd left the theater and entered that alleyway.

Selina realized that they'd been walking the whole time and were now in the study. Bruce was holding a picture of her mother that was framed on her dad's desk. "Was this your mom?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah," Selina answered.

"She looks like she'd be nice," Bruce pointed out.

"Yeah, she was…" Selina responded wistfully. Pausing for a second, Selina asked, "So, where're your parents?"

Bruce set the photograph down almost immediately. He turned away from her, acting as though he was looking through the tall glass doors that led outside. "They're around."

"I thought you said you lived on the streets," Selina questioned. She really meant no offense, but her concerned tone started rubbing Bruce the wrong way.

"Yeah, I do," Bruce told her flatly.

"But if you have parents…" Selina continued.

Bruce cut her off. "What's with the interview?" he demanded. When he saw the hurt look on her face, he sighed and responded, "If you really must know, my real parents were really shitty people. I got adopted."

Selina nodded, acknowledging his answer as a finishing statement on the topic of family.

He asked, "So, what're all these?" He picked up a file from the couch and started flipping through it. "Arkham…Falcone…Wayne Enterprises…what is all this stuff for?"

"Just files my dad had…business stuff…" Selina lied. Bruce caught a slight uptake in the tone of her voice, signaling that she wasn't being truthful, but he technically wasn't either.

"Right," Bruce said. "So, why keep them?"

Selina shrugged. "I think he started looking into this stuff a few weeks before…" she trailed off.

Bruce nodded. "And you think that these are connected to your parent's murders?"

"It was just an idea, really," Selina told him. "A theory."

Bruce set down the file he was holding and told her, "Cat, I'm sorry to tell you this, but stuff like that happens every day where I come from. It sucks, but that's just reality."

She shook her head. "I know, you're probably right. I just…I just don't understand _why_ it happened."

"People are desperate," Bruce told her. "Now more than ever, really. Gotham's gotten worse and worse and now with it losing the Waynes, it's plummeting even faster."

"What is it like to live there?" Selina asked, repeating herself from earlier.

"Cold," he answered. "Rainy season makes the rooftops dangerous, winter can be deadly cold, there's no air conditioning in the summer…" he smirked to himself, "but spring is pretty nice most years."

"Sounds like it kinda sucks," Selina told him flatly.

He shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. You just gotta learn how to adapt quick. If you don't, well," he pulled a thumb across his throat in a gesture.

Selina nodded. She picked up the photo of her mother and glanced over at Bruce momentarily. She noticed he had subconsciously reached for his left breast pocket, the one over his heart. "What's in there?" she asked.

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing," he said, but he said it too quickly for it to be believable. Bruce mentally swore at himself for his poor choice of excuses. For some reason, he found it hard to lie to this orphan, rich girl. She raised an eyebrow and he let his shoulders droop down. Glancing at the door to make sure no one else was watching, he unbuttoned the pocket and pulled out the locket.

Selina reached to touch it, and Bruce pulled away reflexively. He apologized and held it out for her to see. He told her, "It was my mom's." Bruce hesitated, but decided he could trust the girl. He unlatched the locket and opened it, revealing the tiny portrait of a beautiful, young woman: his mother.

"She's pretty," Selina pointed out. Bruce nodded in agreement and abruptly shut the locket, balling up the chain and putting it back into his pocket.

Bruce heard footsteps approaching the doorway and, knowing it was Alfred, decided to cause a bit of mischief. Selina had been leaning up against the desk the whole time, so he got close to her, placing one arm on the desk behind her. He saw her eyes widen, but when Alfred opened the door, she seemed to pick up on what Bruce was doing.

Bruce gained a ton of respect for Selina Wayne that day.

Quickly, before Alfred had seen them, Selina placed a hand on Bruce's cheek, and wrapped the other around his waist, pulling him in a bit closer so he could feel her breath on his face.

From the doorway, they heard Alfred exclaim, "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"

Bruce improvised. He took a pen off the desk behind Selina and turned back to the butler, saying, "Just looking for a pen is all. What else?" he asked with a smirk, throwing himself down onto one of the couches.

Alfred started to stammer a response, but Selina joined in on the fun before he could reply. "Yeah, Alfred, what else would he be doing?" she asked with mock naivety, trying to make the butler as uncomfortable as possible.

It was working pretty well.

Alfred looked down at the ground, cheeks blood red. "Well, I couldn't find you or Mr. Kyle and I was starting to get worried. After all, it has been some time since you've performed one of your little stunts, Madam Wayne."

"Stunts?" Bruce asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

Selina told him, "I've been trying to conquer fear. Jeeves over here caught me on the edge of the roof one day."

"I could give you some pointers, if you want," Bruce offered.

She considered and nodded. "Sure, I'd like that."

Alfred looked like he was about to blow a casket. Straightening himself up, he told the pair of them, "Dinner will be in two hours. Mr. Kyle, I've left the key to your room in your door. Is there anything else I could get you?" Alfred asked.

They both shook their heads and Alfred begrudgingly walked out in mutters and curses at that street trash he'd been forced to adopt.

As soon as the door closed, Bruce and Selina started roaring with laughter.

"Nice one," Bruce told her approvingly. "I didn't know that a billionaire knows how to lie convincingly."

"I didn't know someone else could find the humor in annoying Alfred the way I do," Selina replied, wiping her eyes clear of a few tears of mirth that hadn't fallen. "Oh, and were you serious about giving me pointers on heights and stuff?"

Bruce nodded. "I think what you're asking about is called freerunning. I could give you lessons, if you want. You'd probably pick it up pretty quickly since you'd always land on your feet," Bruce joked.

Selina raised a judgmental eyebrow at his attempt of a joke.

* * *

Across the house, Alfred was quietly freaking out. Dialing a number that he'd found in Mrs. Wayne's personal phonebook, he asked into the phone, "Hello, is this Dr. Leslie Thompkins?"

A sweet voice replied, "Yes, and who is this?"

Alfred replied, "My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I am Miss Selina Wayne's legal guardian."

"Ah, Mr. Pennyworth, what can I do for you?"

Alfred blushed slightly. He stammered out, "Well, currently we are housing a guest, a boy around Miss Wayne's age, and…well…I think that she needs th-the Talk. As you were Mrs. Wayne's personal physician, I just thought that it would be better coming from you than me."

He heard a pause on the other end. Finally, Dr. Thompkins replied, "I'd be happy to help. Martha was a dear friend of mine and I'd do anything I can to help her daughter."

"Excellent," Alfred replied. "Could you be here…let's say…this Sunday?"

"Yes, that would be perfect for me. Is that all?"

"Yes. Thank you kindly, Doctor. Goodbye," Alfred concluded.

"Goodbye," Leslie responded.

Alfred set down the phone and practically fell into a chair. He muttered, "Well that was bloody awful."

* * *

The next day, Bruce had found his way outside and was walking around in the woods. The fresh air seemed to clear the smog and stink of the city from his sinuses.

He started bent down to pick up a stone, and a flower fell on his head. He picked it up, looked at it, and then casted it aside, not giving it a second thought.

A few minutes later, a nearly identical flower fell on his head once again. This time he looked up into the trees above him, but didn't see anything.

A bit creeped out, Bruce started walking back out of the forest.

He could just see the end of the path when a shower of flowers came floating down all over him.

He looked up and saw the culprit.

Cat was sitting up in the tree with an empty basket, smiling down at him. "Hey, B," she said, descending down the tree and running towards the house.

Bruce was still in a bit of shock from the audacity of that girl.

And there was no way in hell she was gonna get away with pranking him, not without repercussions at least.

Instead of charging after her, yelling threats and curses, Bruce bided his time, planning out the perfect response.

Selina didn't know it, but she'd just fired the first shot in a prank war the likes of which Wayne Manor had never seen.

* * *

Later that day, Bruce sat outside the door of her room while she took a shower, listening for her reaction.

Alfred walked past, giving him a suspicious and scornful look. He asked, "What are you doing here?"

Bruce nodded to the empty bag of baby powder next to him. "Just waiting for something."

Alfred looked confused, but his thoughts were soon drowned out by the start of a hair dryer, and a high pitched scream. A minute later, Selina came out wearing a towel, her skin and hair ghostly white, covered in a layer of baby powder. She was practically shaking with rage.

"Bruce!" she screamed as she left her room. Bruce got a one good look at his handiwork before he shot to his feet and sprinted down the hallway, Selina yelling after him.

Alfred shook his head in disapproval. "Bloody kids," he muttered.

* * *

It was Sunday morning, and Alfred got the alert that a car was coming through the gate. Rushing to the front of the house, he opened the car just as a taxi came around. A beautiful, young woman climbed out. She was wearing a nice dress with a lab coat over the top.

She approached the house and he bustled down the steps to assist her up the stairs. He asked, "Dr. Thompkins?"

The woman nodded. "Leslie, please, and you're…"

"Alfred Pennyworth," he answered. "Selina Wayne's legal guardian."

"Yes, and you essentially wanted me to speak with Selina about puberty?"

Alfred blushed slightly and nodded. "Yes, that was the general idea." He escorted Dr. Thompkins inside and said, "I served years in the British S.A.S. and that seems like a breeze compared to raising a teenager."

Thompkins asked, "Does Selina have any other close females in her life?"

Alfred shook his head. "She never had much of a liking for school, and hasn't gone back since her parents died."

Alfred called into the house, "Madam Wayne? There's someone here to see you!"

Unbeknownst to Alfred, Selina was standing two floors above them, balanced on a hand railing. Not wanting to lose focus and fall, she ignored him. She attempted to take a step forwards, but fear kept her feet glued to the surface.

Out of nowhere, Bruce popped up in front of her, causing Selina to take an immediate step back.

He instructed, "Keep it tight right here," gesturing to his core. "It'll help with your balance."

Selina gave him a skeptical look, but did as he said. Almost as soon as she tightened her abs, she gained much more balance. Still, she was unable to move forward on the bar.

Bruce told her, "Look down."

"What?" she asked, momentarily losing concentration and wobbling. "I thought you weren't supposed to look down…"

"You're right, but that only applies if you aren't afraid of heights, but you clearly are. So, look down. Look how far up you are and then think about what would happen were you to miss a step and fall."

Her face went pale white, but his advice hadn't led her astray yet. She did as he said and felt vertigo wash over her as she looked down the three story drop. "Holy…"

"Good, now that you're afraid, look back up and take a step."

"W-what? Why would you want to make me afraid?"

"Cause, fear," he started walking towards her, "isn't a bad thing." He took another couple steps, each time getting closer to the edge of the drop. "Fear is what keeps you alive. Fear…" he paused for dramatic effect, holding one foot out over the chasm, "is what tells you where the edge is. Harness fear, and you'll have complete control, but the only way to take control of it is to face it head on. Now," he stopped walking, "take a step towards me."

"I might fall…" Selina pointed out.

"Don't," Bruce replied flatly.

Taking a deep breath, Selina looked down at the railing and started to take a step, lifting her back foot up, swinging it over the edge, and touching down right in front of her.

Bruce smiled, "Good. I should probably go now."

"Why?" Selina asked.

"Cause your butler is coming with a doctor, and I hate doctors." With that, Bruce dropped down from the ledge and disappeared into another corridor.

Selina dropped down just as Alfred rounded the corner. "Ah, Miss Wayne, this is Doctor Leslie Thompkins."

Selina put on her most polite expression and said, "Nice to meet you Mrs. Thompkins."

"Miss," Doctor Thompkins corrected her. Alfred's eyes seemed to brighten up. "But please call me Leslie."

"Okay, Leslie, what're you doing here?" Selina asked, straight to the point as always.

Leslie looked at Alfred hesitantly and answered, "Your guardian wanted me to talk to you, girl to girl." The doctor smiled and asked, "Is there somewhere we could go and chat?"

Selina, a bit scared as to what was to come, answered, "We could go to my room…"

Thompkins nodded. "Lead the way."

Selina sent a wary glance at Alfred, but did as she was told. The doctor certainly wasn't threatening in any way, in fact, she was quite pretty, but the fact that Alfred had called her had Selina a bit worried.

Selina plopped down on the edge of her bed while Thompkins drew up the chair from Selina's desk.

Thompkins had closed the door behind them, which, to say the least, didn't exactly disconfirm her suspicions of what this was about.

Leslie crossed her legs and asked, "So, Selina, how are you?"

She shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

Leslie sighed. "Honey, I need you to be honest with me or I can't help you."

"Help me with what?" Selina demanded. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

She sighed again. "Selina, you're already growing up to be a beautiful young woman, and over the next couple years, boys are going to start to notice…" she nodded towards the door, obviously using Bruce as an example.

"Oh," Selina said. "So Alfred called you to give me the Talk?" Selina asked.

"Essentially," Thompkins agreed. "So, I'm gonna try and make this as least awkward as possible for you."

* * *

It was still really awkward.

Sure, Selina left that room with a couple questions answered, but the whole talk had just been…weird. Usually, she wasn't a very trusting person, but for some reason she felt like she could talk to Doctor Thompkins.

Alfred showed her out and then immediately retreated into the kitchen to make dinner.

Selina eventually found Bruce sitting on the edge of the roof. She called out to him, "What're you doing?"

He glanced at her nonchalantly and answered, "Nothing. What did that doctor want?"

Selina shook her head. "Nothing, just a checkup."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her horrible attempt of a lie, but he didn't push. "Your butler kinda kicked me out."

"What'd you do?" Selina asked, moving next to him on the edge with their legs dangling off.

"He caught me picking the lock to one of the locked rooms. There are a lot of those, here," he pointed out. She nodded. He asked, "Do you know what's in them?"

She shook her head. "No, my dad always said if a door was locked, it was probably locked for a reason."

He raised an eyebrow. "That sounds more like a challenge than a warning to me, how about you?"

She hummed in agreement. "So, do you really know how to pick a lock?"

He nodded. "It's the first thing they teach you in thief school."

She chuckled. Seriously, she asked, "So, suppose there was a locked door that led to a staircase I saw once before my dad closed it. Would you be able to pick it?"

"Key or combination?" he asked.

"Key," she answered. "Alfred has them now."

"Well, to me, at least, I think it'd be more fun to steal the key. How about you?"

Selina grinned mischievously. "You read my mind."

 **A/N: Yay BabyBatCat! Sorry for the wait, but I needed to post a oneshot that took me a couple hours after "One Bad Day" and I've been working on some other projects, as well as outlining this series and a couple others. And on top of that all of my teachers decided it'd be a great idea to assign every possible assignment they could and make them all due on the same day…and finals… But, that means summer is gonna be here soon so I'll be able to post a lot more often. Thanks for reading!**


	4. The Secret Room

**The Secret Room**

Bruce and Selina ran through the plan one last time before Bruce took his hiding spot under the table, and Selina stood just next to the door in the kitchen, completely invisible to anyone entering.

They waited in silence, Bruce hidden by the tablecloth and Cat poised, waiting for their target to enter.

Sure enough, the quick footsteps of Selina's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, started rapidly approaching the kitchen.

At the last second, Selina stepped out from the doorway, tripping both her and Alfred. They went tumbling down, and as quick as she could, Selina lifted Alfred's keys off his belt loop and slid them under towards the table Bruce was hiding under. Selina started fussing over Alfred, acting as though he looked hurt from the fall.

Bruce smiled to himself. That billionaire was oddly good at stealing things. He took the keys and silently went through them one by one, separating any that seemed to be the correct size to fit into the locked door's keyhole.

With eight keys in hand, he clasped the ring and handed it out to Selina, who'd played her part perfectly and was now leaning up against the table.

She took it and Bruce heard her say to Alfred, "I think these are yours…"

"Ah, thank you, Miss Wayne," Alfred replied. "Now, since you're alright, would you mind going to check on Mr. Kyle? It's been three hours and he hasn't caused a commotion… I think something might be wrong."

Selina chuckled at his rare attempt at a joke and nodded, walking out of the kitchen. Alfred watched her go, but a flash of movement caught his eye. He whipped around and saw the bottom of the tablecloth swing a bit, like it had just been moved and was going back to its original resting place.

Slowly, he crept towards it, like a cat stalking its prey. He took the bottom of it and pulled it up.

Surprisingly, there was nothing there.

Alfred shook his head, afraid he was going mad. He marched out of the kitchen, much to the relief of Bruce who'd taken refuge behind the counter.

Certain he was gone, Bruce stood from his hiding place and left the kitchen.

Selina was standing around the corner, waiting for him. "Did you get it?" she asked.

He nodded. "I got eight. Hopefully one is right…"

"But can't you just pick it?" Selina asked.

Bruce shrugged. "But where's the fun in that? Half the fun of crime is trying not to get caught, you know."

She shook her head at his strange opinion. "Whatever. Let's go," and they went off running down the hall.

Selina led him to the familiar brown door. Bruce emptied his pocket full of keys onto the floor and, one by one, they went through them. Finally, on the second to last key, it clicked.

"Yes!" Selina exclaimed. Bruce unlocked the door and pulled it open.

What they found was quite unexpected.

"Selina…how old were you when you saw the staircase?" Bruce asked.

Jaw on the floor, Selina answered, "Six… Apparently my dad increased security…"

Behind the old, wooden door was a massive, stainless steel door with a passcode lock. It had six digits with a keyboard underneath.

Bruce whistled. "No kidding…a six digit lock with thirty-six possible answers for each…that's over two billion combinations."

Selina stepped forward and started punching in random codes. _123456._ Nope. _MARTHA._ Nope. _ALFRED._ Nope. Selina tried her birthday. Nope.

Bruce asked, "What was that last one?"

Selina answered, "My birthday."

"February 19th?" Bruce asked. She nodded and Bruce told her, "We have the same birthday…"

She raised her eyebrows. "Weird. I don't think I'm gonna get this to be honest," gesturing to the door's passcode lock.

"Where would your dad have kept the code?" Bruce asked.

"No idea," Selina replied.

* * *

A few hours later, they were laying around in the study when, suddenly, Bruce got an idea.

He stood from his couch and tossed the book he'd been reading to the side. "I got an idea," he told Selina, already walking out of the room.

She ran to catch up with him and asked, "What is it? Bruce!"

He leaped over the railing of the stairs, dropping down to the bottom floor from the story above.

Selina caught him at the door and asked, "What is it?"

He said, "Wait a sec." Meticulously, he typed, "S-E-L-I-N-A."

There was a pause followed by a loud click.

"Yes!" Selina exclaimed as the door started to swing open.

Behind the now unlocked door was a flight of steps which went down farther than Bruce could see, which was saying something since he could usually see in the dark.

Selina, who still holding a flashlight from earlier, turned it on and shined it down into the darkness.

Bruce whistled at the length of which the tunnel went down. "Come on," he said to Selina.

"What?" Selina objected. "We can't even see all the way down. Maybe it leads to…"

"Where?" Bruce questioned. "Where would it lead to?"

"I don't know…" Selina replied, still hesitantly.

Bruce took the flashlight from her and said, "Well, I'm going." Just as he made it to the third step or so, he muttered, "Scaredy Cat," which caught the ear of Selina.

Groaning to herself, she followed after him, placing a book from a nearby shelf in between the door and the threshold to keep it open.

The stairs were made of wood at the beginning, but they quickly turned into something much studier…concrete?

It was grim and dark and without the flashlight they would've been blind as bats.

Finally, after a full minute or so of descending, the floor leveled out and Bruce told Selina to watch her step.

It was too late.

She tripped as the stairs gave way to the floor, and she would've face-planted had Bruce not caught her.

"Whoa!" Bruce exclaimed, barely making it before she fell.

"Sorry," Selina said, suddenly thankful that the room was too dark for him to see her lightly blush.

"No problem," Bruce replied. "What is this place?" he asked, shining the light around the room.

The room they were in was dark and cold and the air was filled with a thick could of dust. Bruce went over to a desk in the opposite corner and found a couple files and papers strewn about. He picked one off, and, blowing off the dust, read out loud, "Applied Sciences Division…what are these?" he asked Selina.

"No idea," Selina replied. Bruce shined the light at the other side of the room and they saw another door. "I wonder where that goes…" Selina asked aloud. She approached the door and took the handle.

Surprisingly, it was unlocked.

A rush of cold air hit her as soon as the door opened. About the same time, Bruce found a light switch and turned on the lights in the room. Now able to see through the door, Selina whispered in awe, "Whoa…"

In the dim light, she could see a huge, expansive cavern that went on nearly as far as she could see. Bruce came up behind her and asked, "Did you know that there were caves under your house?"

Selina nodded. "A few, but…none like this…"

Bruce aimed the flashlight down at the foot of the door and saw a metal staircase. "Come on," Bruce said, already descending the stairs.

Selina followed suit, taking care to not slip on the damp metal.

They hit the cave floor and Bruce asked, "Why do you have a secret staircase to a cave under your mansion?"

Selina shook her head. "I'm kinda tired of saying this, but I have no idea."

A light squeak alerted the both of them to another presence in the cave.

They paused and Bruce slowly lifted the flashlight up to the roof.

Selina gasped out loud and even Bruce took a couple steps back towards the staircase.

Over the echo of the roar of a waterfall farther down in the cave system, their attention was brought to a new sound. Hundreds of thousands of bats were crawling about on the ceiling.

As the beam of the flashlight hit the bats, they all dropped from the ceiling in a swarm and Selina screamed. They sprinted towards the steps, the swarm of bats now encompassing them in a sea of dark brown wings and high pitched shrieks and squeaks. Bruce batted and swatted at them as Selina ran ahead, holding the door open for him.

He tripped at the bottom of the stairs, scraping his knee badly. Selina rushed down the steps and grabbed his arm, helping him up the steps until they finally reached the concrete room. As soon as the door slammed shut, the bats went eerily quiet, like order had been restored in the cave.

Bruce and Selina slumped against the door to the cave, both breathing heavily.

"That was awful," Selina stated. Bruce hummed in agreement.

"Why did they attack us?"

"They didn't," Selina responded. Bruce tilted his head in confusion and she told him, "My dad taught me all about bats when I was younger. They weren't attacking us. If they were, we'd be covered in cuts and scrapes. No, they weren't angry, they were excited."

"Excited?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, like a dog when his owner gets home, ya know?"

Bruce shook his head. "What was your dad doing down here?"

"I don't know, and to be honest, I don't want to know," Selina answered, although that wasn't fully true. She _did_ want to find out what her father had been doing, but she had a bad feeling that the room, the cave, the secrets, they were all connected to her parent's deaths.

It could be dangerous, and she sure as hell didn't want to bring Bruce into it.

However, unbeknownst to her, Bruce knew that she was lying. From years on the streets, he'd learned who to trust and who to not, and he did trust her, but he knew she was lying all the same.

Granted, she was good, and if he hadn't been so skilled in spotting a liar, he would've believed her.

Nevertheless, he nodded. "Fair enough, I guess. Let's get outta here."

They climbed back up the stairs and found the makeshift doorstopper hadn't been moved. They sealed the two doors again, as if nothing had ever happened in the secret room below Wayne Manor.

* * *

Later that night, Bruce heard a knock at his door. He rose from his bed and found Selina standing there. "Hey, Cat, what's up?" Bruce asked. It wasn't too late at night, only about nine O'clock, but he'd decided to try to go to sleep early.

"Nothing much," she answered, "I just wanted to check on you…"

Bruce smirked. "Check on me? Why?"

"You looked pretty shaken up at dinner, and then you came straight here after you were done…are you okay?" she asked in a motherly tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Bruce lied. The thing with the bats had secretly terrified him. He'd felt powerless while they swarmed him and he hated feeling helpless.

It was obvious that he was lying, but Selina didn't push. "Alright. If you need to talk, or something, I'm right down the hall."

Bruce smiled to himself. It'd been a while since someone had given a shit about him and it felt really good. "Thanks, Cat, but I'm good, really. How about you?"

"I'm good, I guess."

They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments.

"Well, I gotta get to bed…" Selina said. "Goodnight, B."

"Night, Cat," Bruce replied. She walked down the hallway, but before she reached her door Bruce asked, "Do you wanna go to Gotham tomorrow?"

Selina raised an eyebrow. "Gotham? Why?"

Bruce shrugged. "Well, I figured since you spent the past few days giving me a tour of your world, I'd show you around mine."

Selina nodded. "Sure, sounds fun. You wanna go after lunch tomorrow?" Bruce nodded. "Cool. Night, Bruce."

"Night," Bruce replied.

 **A/N: Sorry for the shorter-than-usual chapter, but this wasn't originally part of my outline and sort of just wrote it on a whim. From now until the end of Season 1, I should be able to post every Friday. As for those who were asking if Bruce would grow up to become the Batman in this series, you'll just have to wait and see what I have in store ;) Make sure to review if you enjoyed and/or have any critiques as all assistance is welcomed. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Lovecraft Pt 1

**A/N: Gotham Season 4 may be over, but I'm just starting! Enjoy!**

 **Lovecraft Pt. 1**

Selina blew out her air steadily as she tried to balance on the hand railing above a three story drop. Her legs wobbled a bit but she was generally able to keep her balance as long as she stayed focused.

However, a voice jarred her from her concentration. "Good form," Bruce commented, "but you still need to keep your core tighter."

Selina's foot slipped in surprise. After a few panicked seconds of trying to regain balance, she scolded, "Damn you, Bruce!" The boy stood across from her, balancing on the slim bar without the slightest bit of fear in his dark eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Little, innocent Selina Wayne knows how to swear? I gotta say, Cat, I'm impressed." She rolled her eyes and jumped off the railing to the floor. Bruce joined her and said, "If you wanna test yourself I can take you to the Midtown Bridge."

"You've climbed it?" Selina asked while putting her shoes back on.

Bruce nodded. "All the way to the top. Kids go up there to make out all the time…I could take you if you want," he added with a flirtatious smirk.

Selina considered for a few seconds before agreeing, "Sure, but don't get any ideas, Kyle."

Bruce mocked hurt, saying, "Why would you think I meant that?" She rolled her eyes, so he shrugged. "Besides, I know you wanna kiss me."

She huffed. "Oh, really?"

Bruce moved in slightly, "Yeah, really."

"For the record," Selina started, "I do want to kiss you," she said, moving a bit closer. There were only a few inches between them and she lingered there for a few seconds before reaching down to pick up her other shoe.

Bruce scoffed. He'd just gotten played.

She continued, "But I can't help but feel that you have another motive."

Bruce raised his eyebrows in challenge. "And what motive is that?"

"Well, you've lived on the streets your whole life, and now you live in a big mansion because of me."

Bruce physically felt her words push one of his buttons. "And? What about it?" he asked, a bit of a darker tone entering his voice.

Selina didn't pick up on his shift in tone and she continued, "You want a way off the streets and living here, with me, gives you the opportunity. So, I think you're using me. I wouldn't think that of most people, but…you haven't been particularly _nice_ to me or Alfred since you got here…"

Every word felt like a knife to the chest to Bruce. He sneered at her. "Well if I'm that much of a manipulative jerk, then I won't waste your time anymore than I have. Sorry for being such a bother," and he stormed off down the stairs. Before going out of sight, he called up to her, "You can climb the damn bridge on your own!"

Selina, still a bit shocked at his reaction to what she thought was just regular teasing, was brought out of her thoughts by the doorbell ringing.

She rushed down the stairs and found Bruce stalled a couple flights down, looking out over the foyer where a woman with bloodstains on her face and clothes had entered.

She heard Alfred ask her, "Where exactly are you hurt?"

"Alfred," Selina said, alerting the two adults to her and Bruce's presences. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

He looked up at the pair of them and said, "No, Miss Wayne. This lady's been involved in a car accident…"

The hair on the back of Bruce's neck stood on end.

Alfred stopped when he noticed the fearful look on Bruce's face. He turned back to the woman and saw that her fake, terrified expression had crumbled away and been replaced with one of sinister intent.

"Run," he commanded the two kids. "Run!"

Bruce didn't hesitate. He latched onto Selina's wrist and started pulling her up the steps, as Alfred stalled for time by confronting the woman.

Bruce dragged Selina until she fell in stride and they went sprinting down the hallways. Selina told him, "Left!"

They ran into a bathroom and Selina slammed the door. She opened another doorway and told Bruce, "There's a way out through the closet but we need to help Alfred…"

He cut her off, "There's no time!" He closed the second door behind them and they went running down another passage.

The corridor led to a second story balcony, which Bruce dropped down off of easily, landing in a crouch. He grunted from the force, and looked up at Selina, who'd paused. "Come on!" he yelled. "It looks farther than it is!"

She nodded and, with one last look back at the mansion, dropped down to the ground.

Bruce was almost at the hedge maze when he turned back to make sure Selina was following. "Cat, come on!"

She looked back at the house and told him, "Alfred might be hurt, I can't leave him…"

Bruce clenched his fist in agitation. "He _told_ you to run, which means he knew he could take them by himself, so _let's go_!"

Bruce took off running, and he soon heard the footsteps of Selina behind him. He allowed her to catch up and she led him through the hedge maze. They'd heard gunshots from farther back, but Bruce ignored them, telling Selina to keep running. They arrived at the edge of the main road and Bruce took a few looks around, figuring out where they were in relation to Gotham. He pointed towards the direction of the city and said, "Come on."

They walked along the tree line for a couple minutes until, finally, the woods stopped and they were met by an open field with a building here and there.

Bruce let out a content sigh. He could see Gotham from there, and it gave him renewed confidence knowing that they were only a few miles away from his home. Once there, no one would find him if he didn't want them to.

Selina spoke up, "We need to call Alfred."

"You see any phones?" he replied sarcastically.

"No," she responded in defeat. "But we should go back to my house. If the police are there, we'll know it's safe."

Bruce scoffed. "No offense, Cat, but I wouldn't exactly call _your_ house safe."

"Well…we have to contact the police at some point…" she paused. "Someone tried to kill you, B," she said with concern in her voice.

The concern she had for him made Bruce's heart feel a bit warmer than usual, but he suppressed the feeling and commented, "I don't think they were there for me, Cat. Nobody even knew I was there. And if it wasn't me, and it definitely wasn't Alfred, that leaves…"

"Me," Selina finished gravely.

Bruce felt bad for scaring the poor girl. Granted, where he came from, everyone had it rough. It was just normal. But she seemed too innocent…too good to be given the fate she'd been dealt. She had had everything, and now she was left with practically nothing.

"Why would anyone wanna kill me?" she asked.

"Must be all that lame detective work you're doing," Bruce replied, hoping a bit of teasing would lift her spirits. "Paid off good, huh?"

Bruce paused and took in the entire sight of the Gotham skyline, just across the river. It was peaceful out there, but seeing the look of fear on Selina's face ruined the view. It reminded him of that night in the alley, of the gunshots, of the scream… He stopped his thoughts before he could remember that sound.

He told her, "Cheer up, Cat. We're cool. We lost 'em."

"I'm just worried about Alfred…"

"Relax," he interrupted. "Once I got you safely hidden in the city, I'll find you a phone."

She smiled a bit. "Thank you, Bruce. I appreciate your help."

"Hey," he started, now with a bit of a smirk, "I'm just tryin' to be nice," and he started back towards the city.

* * *

After a quick climb up a hill and a walk across the Midtown Bridge, they arrived in Gotham City. Bruce took a big whiff of the smoggy air and sighed in relief. "The country's nice, but there's nothing better than the sweet smell of the city," Bruce told her.

"Sweet?" Selina asked, coughing from the rough change from the clean, countryside air to the smoky Gotham stench.

"Hell yeah," Bruce responded. "Now, come on, we aren't safe yet."

He led her down a couple blocks, going deeper and deeper into the city before they arrived at a payphone Bruce knew about. He'd taken special care to not lead Selina down any streets that had a phone up until then.

"There's a phone!" she cried. She picked up the receiver and started to dial. Much to the amusement of Bruce, she looked severely confused when she typed in the number and it didn't start to ring. She realized there was a coin slot and said, "I don't carry coins, do you…"

She never finished as he was already holding out a quarter for her to take. She smiled meekly and inserted the coin.

Before she could dial the number again, Bruce told her, "Good luck, kid. See you around, maybe," he said, starting towards the nearest fire escape low enough to reach.

"What?" she asked. "Wait!"

Bruce turned on his heel and said, "Look, those guys were there for me, not you. As long as you stay away from me, you have nothing to worry about." He nodded to the building across the street and Selina finally realized why he'd brought her to that particular phone. Directly across from them was the Gotham City Police Department. He'd brought her to safety. He told her, "Go home, Cat."

A hurt expression came across her face. "But you said…"

"I was just trying to freak you out," Bruce told her. "I was playing with you."

Selina started to look really angry. "You were playing with me? That's kind of cruel isn't it?"

"Yeah," Bruce shot back. "No, look, you were right about me. I'm not nice. Not like you. You have a nice way about you," he shrugged.

"A _nice way_?" Selina asked, now a fully fledged look of betrayal plastered on her face.

"Yeah," he replied. "That's why I said that thing about you being the target so, you know," he chuckled at his own naivety, "we could hang out a while longer…" he trailed off.

She paused and looked at him icily. "I see," she uttered. "It's very convoluted reasoning."

Bruce scoffed and shook his head. "Whatever. Anyhow, it's been cool. I'm gonna disappear."

"You can't do that," Selina argued.

"Wasn't asking!" Bruce shot back.

"You can't disappear! You have to come back home with me," she told him. "When Detective Gordon finds the man who killed my parents…you have to testify."

Bruce huffed. He didn't want to say the words that he was about to say.

He really didn't.

But it had to be done, for her sake. "You really think that was ever gonna happen?" The look of renewed hurt on her face felt like a knife in the heart, but he had to finish this argument right then and there. Every second she was around him was another that the assassins could catch up, and she could get caught in the crossfire. "Grow up, Cat."

He turned away from her and ran at a wall, running up three steps and grabbing a fire escape ladder. He started to scale the platforms, and took one last look back at Selina.

She was following him up.

 _Great_ , he thought.

Bruce reached the rooftop a couple dozen feet in front of her. She only saw him on the same roof for few seconds before he leapt across the gap, which was at least an eight story drop. He flew across and landed gracefully on the other side like he'd been born doing it.

Selina pursued the boy. She got onto the roof and ran towards the edge, but slammed on the breaks once she realized there was nothing in between the two buildings.

Just a drop, straight down.

Bruce stood on the other side with a victorious smirk.

She turned back and jogged to the other side of the roof.

Bruce realized what she was about to do and his smirk disappeared. He called out to her, "No, don't, you won't make it!"

She ignored him. Taking a deep breath, she sprinted to towards the edge of the building, full speed, and leapt off her roof. Everything slowed down. She would never forget the feeling of flying through the air over certain death, the exhilaration of it, the pounding of her heart, all of it was seared into her mind.

It was bliss, until she realized she was going to come up a few inches short.

She would've died had Bruce not reached out and caught her. By some miracle, her bodyweight, accompanied by the force she'd build up to jump across, hadn't pulled them both off of the rooftop and down to certain death.

He dug in his feet and lifted her up out of the chasm, both now breathing heavily.

"You're crazy," Bruce told her flatly.

Surprisingly, she grinned. Bruce thought, _Who the hell is this girl?_

She responded, "Maybe, but there's no way in hell you're getting away that easy." He raised an eyebrow and her confidence slipped, saying, "But please…for the love of god…don't run off again."

Bruce smirked. "Okay, kid," he told her, a newfound respect in his voice. "You earned it. You wanna hang with me? That's cool, but my world, my rules, you do what _I_ say."

She nodded, "Fine. Where…" but she paused for no apparent reason. Suddenly, right then and there, her brain decided to notice how handsome the boy looked with his dark brown eyes and wild hair, the wind making it go in just the right direction. Obviously, she'd always thought he was cute, but it was unlike her to get distracted by a boy so easily. "Where to first, then?" she finally stuttered out.

"First, we need to turn you into a street-kid," he said, gesturing to her preppy but dirty outfit. "And I know just the place."

* * *

"Where are we?" Selina asked, looking around the old, abandoned building Bruce had brought her to.

Well, it technically wasn't abandoned, just taken over.

Teens and young adults were milling about the racks of beat-up street clothes, or sitting around on couches with sodas and bags of chips. Low rock music was blaring in the background.

Bruce smirked. "This is the Flea. It's like the mall for street kids, just without the shitty music. We'll be safe here until dark. For now, though, we need to get you changed. Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

Bruce led her to the back of the Flea where a few girls were standing around the racks of clothes. He called out to one, "Hey, Zee."

One of them looked up.

She was gorgeous.

She had dark, curly hair and was wearing an old Gotham Knights baseball cap over it. Somehow, the hat only complemented her look, and when she came closer, Selina noticed the girl was a few inches taller than her, and saw that she was even wearing makeup.

"Hey, B," she said, giving him a dazzling smile. Some of her friends giggled to each other, but it was loud enough for both Bruce and Selina to hear. The girl, Zee, ignored them, but Selina had the sudden urge to take Bruce's switchblade from his pocket and gut the onlookers on the spot.

 _Whoa_ , she thought. _Where did that come from?_

The girl marched right up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Bruce returned the hug and Selina thought she was gonna puke.

"How are you?" the girl asked, finally letting go of his neck just to start running her hands all over his face and chest, looking for injuries.

"Good," he responded simply.

Zee seemed content that he was fine.

So, she slapped him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled. "You've been gone for _weeks_! No one knew where you were. I…we thought…"

"I'm sorry, Zee," he told her, holding the spot where she'd hit him. "Did you hear about Tin's fight club getting raided?" he asked. She nodded and he continued, "I was selling some stuff there when the cops got there, fell in line."

Zee asked, "So, then what? I know you aren't smart enough to get out of Juvie by yourself."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I cut a deal, told one of the Detectives that I witnessed a murder, he put me in witness protection. But, that's not why I'm here." For the first time since the girl had walked up, Bruce acknowledged Selina's existence, saying, "Zee, this is my friend, Cat."

The girl beamed at Selina and Selina had to resist the urge to punch her in her perfect teeth.

"Nice to meet you, Cat," she said. "I'm Zatanna, but people call me Zee." The girl stuck out her hand and Selina begrudgingly shook it.

When Selina didn't say anything in response, Bruce told Zee, "Well, Cat isn't from around here, and she needs a change of clothes, ya know, something less cute."

Selina felt a blush rise in her cheeks, but she forced herself to not smile at the rare compliment.

Zee nodded, examining Selina like some new doll she got to play with. "Yeah, this'll be easy. Sit tight, B," and with that, she took Selina by the hand and started to lead her towards the clothing racks.

Bruce called out to her, "Zee, one more thing."

He whispered something in her ear and she nodded, saying, "Got it." She turned back to Selina and said, "Come on, Cat. We're gonna make a street kid out of you, yet." She pulled out a leather jacket from the racks and showed it to Selina, who shrugged, even though she secretly loved it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Bruce went off to do some business of his own. He knew where he had to go next, and he thoroughly dreaded it.

He made his way up to the balcony of the Flea and a familiar, chilling smile greeted him.

"Brucey!" a boy announced. "Where you been, man?"

Bruce smiled weakly. "Hey, Jack. I'm doing fine, thanks."

The boy, Jack Napier, was sitting behind his desk, counting all the revenue that the Flea and several other establishments had made that day. Even though he was only just sixteen, Jack worked for Don Maroni. He was surrounded by a pair of bodyguards, even though there was really no need for them. Anyone who knew anything about Jack Napier knew to never cross him. If his creepy smile and psychotic, inane laugh wasn't enough, the boy was proficient with knives and guns, and Bruce knew he was always armed.

The other boy stood from the desk and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "Please, sit," he said, gesturing to one of the chairs. Bruce obliged and he asked, "What's up?"

"Well, you know how Tin got busted, 'bout a month ago?" Bruce asked.

Jack nodded. "Real shame, I liked him, he made good money."

"Yeah, well he used to be the Fence I sold to, but since he's at Blackgate now…"

"You need a new one," Jack finished. He smiled his usual creepy smile and said, "Bruce, all you had to do was ask. We're friends, after all. From what I heard, Clyde the Fence is working outta the Factory at the Narrows. I can give him a call if you like? Let him know you're coming."

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

"Anything for a friend," Jack responded creepily. Jack made the call and Bruce got up to leave. Jack stood from his chair and slammed his hands on the table, making Bruce freeze where he was. "There's actually a favor you could do for me, in return. An eye for an eye and all that…"

Bruce nodded. "What favor?"

Jack shrugged. "Oh, nothing much, just that…well…Clyde fell behind on his payments last month. Crime is slow right now, ya know? Well, Maroni isn't too happy about that. You mind letting him know?"

"Why didn't you tell him just now when you called him?" Bruce asked, careful not to allow any fear or anger to enter his voice.

"Why? Well, I personally think that messages," he pulled a knife from his belt and sunk it into the desk, "are better sent in person. Don't you?" Bruce didn't respond, trying to keep his face stoic and emotionless. Jack smiled. "Besides, we _are_ friends, aren't we?" he asked.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, we're friends. I'll let Clyde know."

"Excellent," Jack responded. He removed the knife from the table and sheathed it back in his belt. Bruce turned to go, but Jack called at him, "That girl you brought here…"

Bruce turned back. "What about her?" he asked, having a very hard time restraining himself from snapping that scrawny kid's neck.

"Nothing much, I was just wondering…" he looked up from his desk, "when did you start hanging out with orphan billionaires?"

Bruce felt the blood rush from his face.

Jack smirked. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed." He made a big show of 'zipping' his lips and throwing away the key. "See you soon…friend," he lulled.

Bruce got out of there as fast as possible.

* * *

Selina came out of the dressing room in a pair of black jeans, a soft, a lightweight grey hoodie, black combat boots, and a leather jacket on top. Zee had also found her a pair of cute, but durable, leather gloves that she slipped on.

Zee had her spin around as she admired her handiwork. The dark haired girl shook her head, "Good, but…it's missing something."

"The pants are tight," Selina said flatly.

Zee ignored her. She paused for a few seconds and then snapped her fingers, like she'd just had an idea. _That girl? Have an idea_? Selina thought to herself. _Doubt it._

She came back from behind a stack of boxes with a pair of welding goggles.

"Are you sure?" Selina asked. Granted, the outfit Zee had picked out so far had been practically perfect, but the goggles seemed a bit…extra.

Even so, Zee had Cat pull her hood up and then placed the goggles on her head.

She had Selina face a covered mirror, and then ripped off the cloth covering it.

Selina audibly gasped.

She barely recognized the girl in the mirror, but she kinda liked it. Zee stood behind her and brushed her hair out to the sides, showing just enough of her light brown curls. "Perfect. Bruce is gonna love it," she commented offhandedly.

Selina's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?" she asked.

The other girl laughed. "Oh, honey, it's nothing to be ashamed of. He's really handsome, in his devil-may-care kinda way. And you two would be so cute together!" she practically squealed.

Selina was confused. "But…don't…aren't you two a thing?" she asked.

"Me and Bruce?" Zee asked. She laughed and shook her head. "Cat, Bruce is like a brother to me. We basically grew up together. Yeah, we flirt, but we've always done that. It's just how we talk. Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you. I promise, you don't need to worry."

"The way he looks at me?" Selina whispered to herself, still facing the mirror.

Speak of the devil, Bruce walked up and nodded to Zee. "Hey, where's Cat…" he trailed off.

She turned around and saw his eyes go wide. "So," she asked, "do I look like a street kid now?"

Bruce scanned her over and nodded. His shocked expression was replaced with his usual, lazy smirk and he said, "Yeah…yeah you do. I like the goggles," he commented.

"I knew you would," Zee said passively, dragging her fingertips across his chest as she passed him.

Bruce nodded. He shook his head, as if clearing it, and nodded towards the exit. "Well, we need to get going." He took Zee by the hand and told her, "Thanks for everything," before planting a quick kiss on her cheek. He nodded to Selina and they walked out of the Flea.

Selina asked, "So, where'd you run off to?"

Bruce shook his head. "Rather not talk about it," he responded. "I needed a favor from a friend, and now I have to do one for him."

"What?" Selina asked.

Bruce sighed. "Nothing good." He paused and then asked her, "Completely random question: how good are you at extortion?"

 **A/N: Yay BabyBatCat! I've been wanting to do this chapter since I first came up with the concept for Roles Reversed, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. I hoped you all liked Zatanna and Jack enough, as they'll cause key plot points later on, but if you aren't a fan of OC's, don't worry. There won't be too many. Also, I may start posting on Tuesdays and Fridays now, as summer is approaching quickly and I'll have a ton of free time on my hands.**

 **Sorry for splitting Lovecraft into two parts, but it would've been way to much and I wouldn't have been able to write nearly as much detail. Make sure to review if you enjoyed or have any critiques. Thanks for reading!**

 **P.S. this may not need to be said, but I'm gonna say it anyways: feel free to use any OC's that I come up with in this series, including Ted, Jack, and Zatanna, as well as others down the road ;)**


	6. Lovecraft Pt 2

**A/N: Hold onto your hats folks, cause you ain't seen nothing yet! Here's part two, hope you enjoy!**

 **Lovecraft Pt. 2**

Bruce led Selina down the streets of the Narrows, glaring icily at anyone who looked at them.

Selina apprehensively started, "So, what you said to Zee back there, about telling Detective Gordon you saw my parent's killer…"

"Don't worry, that was just an excuse," Bruce assured her. "I trust Zee, but people could've been listening and the streets talk."

"So…you _did_ see the man's face?" Selina asked.

Bruce grunted in response. "We're here," he told her before she could ask any more questions. He felt bad for lying, but there would be no point in telling her the truth at that point.

Besides, once this was all over, he'd never see her again.

Selina looked up at the massive building in front of them. "This is the Factory?" she asked. Bruce nodded.

"Come on, let's go threaten a criminal," he said dryly.

They made their way inside pretty easily. Two security guards patted them down and Bruce told him, "There's a knife in my left coat pocket." Sure enough the guard removed a switchblade and Bruce shrugged. "It's a dangerous world," he told them.

The guard nodded for them to go in.

Bruce led Selina into the room where a chunky, red haired man was sitting behind a desk. All around the room were stacks upon stacks of boxes filled with practically anything you could think of.

The man looked up from his desk and exclaimed, "Bruce!"

"Hey, Clyde," Bruce responded coolly. He approached slowly, not wanting to set off any of the guards surrounding the Fence.

"Jack said you'd be coming by. So," he hunched forward in anticipation, "what have you got for me?" he asked.

Bruce pulled out a small paper bag and emptied it onto the table: A watch, an expensive pen, a couple pieces of jewelry, the usual stuff he'd sell to Fences, but all of this was real.

"Hey," Selina complained. She recognized almost all of it as things from her house.

Bruce shushed her and Clyde lulled out, "Wow…sweet swag. Not your usual junk, from what I've heard."

"Moving on up," Bruce told him.

Clyde picked up a particularly expensive looking watch and started swinging it back and forth. "Where'd you get this?" he asked greedily.

Bruce huffed in response. "You want a story or the stuff?" he asked.

Clyde shrugged. "How much?"

"Thousand bucks," Bruce replied.

Clyde laughed out loud at the demand. "Oh, please! Give me a break…"

"And that's rock bottom, you know it is," Bruce pushed.

Clyde leaned up on his elbows and told Bruce, "Fifty bucks."

Selina spoke up. "Fifty?" Bruce gave her a wary look, but she continued, "This pen is real gold. That's an antique jade netsuke. It's worth two thousand dollars on its own."

Clyde got a sinister, curious look in his eyes. "And who is this well-spoken little…missy?" he asked Bruce.

"Never mind who she is," Bruce told Clyde, bringing him back to the subject at hand. "Look, 500 is rock bottom. Besides, most of it is going to Maroni anyways. Why are you wasting my time?" he demanded.

Clyde stood from his chair. "Oh! Maroni sent you. In that case, I'm sure we can…" he took a long look at Selina and continued, "make a deal." Bruce picked up on the man's intentions and he shook his head.

"Nah. We'll go somewhere else," Bruce said, picking up the stuff and starting to swiftly walk away.

The two guards grabbed both of them and Clyde scolded, "Cool down, Bruce. Or, we'll poke your little girlfriend's eyes out and sell her to the highest bidder." Bruce froze. He'd heard a rumor that Clyde was in human-trafficking, but he'd brushed it off as just that: rumors. He hadn't thought twice about bringing Selina here and what the ramifications could be. He wished he hadn't told the guard about his knife. "That's it," Clyde lulled. "Relax." He put a firm hand on Bruce's shoulder and yanked him forward. "I've got some friends coming over who would just love to meet you."

Bruce's eyes darkened and in one last moment of defiance, he kicked Clyde in the groin. The Fence doubled over. Bruce threw himself backwards at the two guards, but the two grown men easily overpowered him, putting the boy on the ground and throwing a flurry of kicks and punches at him. Selina screamed for them to stop, but Bruce said nothing, giving in to the beating and allowing the guards to drag the two of them away.

They were taken into a huge storage room and the guards locked the doors behind them, trapping Bruce and Selina inside.

Bruce fell to the floor, bloody and weak, and Selina rushed up to him. He assured her, "I'm fine, Cat. Besides, I got what I was after," he said with a pain-filled grin. He pushed himself up off the ground and reached into his coat pocket, removing his switchblade. "I took it off the guard when I attacked them."

Selina shook her head. "You're crazy," she told him.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but right now we need to get out of here." He glanced around the room and then pointed at a window on the roof. "They'll probably be locked, but if we make it look like we escaped…"

"They wouldn't expect an attack from behind," Selina finished for him. She started going to work, piling boxes and scaffolding up to the roof. Bruce eventually picked himself up off the ground and helped her, although his breathing was hitched and he was in constant pain.

Loud, deliberate footsteps were approaching the room.

Bruce jumped down and motioned for Selina to hide.

The locked clicked open and one of the assassins entered. He spotted the construction and realized what had just happened. He was about to yell that the kids had escaped when Bruce jumped from his hiding place, tackled the man, and stabbed him in the back of the leg.

The process made a commotion and Bruce and Selina had to rush out of the room before they were seen. They made it to the bottom floor where they found a hiding place under all the junk Clyde kept around.

Selina looked up to see if anyone was coming, and was just barely able to duck under cover before the woman from earlier saw her.

While they did this, gunshots started erupting from all directions. Bruce shifted so his body was in front of hers, on the off chance a stray shot were hit their hiding place.

Over the deafening noise, a familiar voice called into the warehouse, "SELINA!"

"Alfred," Bruce heard Selina whisper. Before Bruce could stop her, she went charging out from the cover, drawing several of the assassins after her.

Bruce froze as they ran past him, completely oblivious to his presence.

He knew that he should've stayed where he was until the whole ordeal was over, but he couldn't let her get hurt, either. _Damn that girl_ , Bruce thought.

He eventually moved from his cover and found a horrifying sight.

The woman had caught Selina and was holding her at gunpoint.

Bruce heard the woman ask Selina, "Where's the boy?"

"Who?" Selina asked, trying to play dumb, although there was no real point in it.

The woman dug her gun into Selina's lower stomach, saying, "Don't make me hurt you. You aren't on the contract." A knowing look passed over her face and she said, "Oh, you _like_ the boy. I gotta tell you honey, you could do better."

Bruce did something very stupid.

He grabbed one of the fallen assassin's guns and shot at the woman, hitting her square in the chest.

He dropped the gun and charged at the woman, who was now tumbling down the staircase.

The assassin stood up, now angrier than ever, but Bruce rammed into her and they went sprawling on the floor. He yelled at Selina, "GO!" and started punching the woman who'd been hunting him for nearly twenty-four hours. Out of his peripheral, he saw her run out of the building and he lost focus on the task at hand.

The woman hit him in the throat, causing him to gag and fall over.

She stood from the ground and held him at gunpoint, saying, "Last word of advice, kid: don't mistake bravery for good sense."

A gunshot sounded and Bruce thought he was dead.

However, it wasn't the woman's gun that had fired. Instead, she doubled over and crashed to the ground. She went still.

Bruce didn't look back to see who'd fired the bullet. He didn't care. He knew Selina was safe and that was all that mattered. He got up and ran up the steps to the room he'd been locked in.

He climbed up the makeshift tower and was able to pry open the windows on the roof. He slid through and arrived on the rooftop of the Factory.

Instead of running away from the scene like he would in any other situation, he walked over to the side and sat of the edge, watching over the police cars and ambulances that'd arrived to take care of Selina.

Bruce smiled to himself as he watched Alfred engulf her in a hug. He gingerly touched his left side where he'd been grazed by a bullet sometime during the fight; he'd been too jacked on adrenaline to notice.

Bruce's heart stopped as he saw Selina look up at the roof. He could see her face in the flashing sirens, and even from several stories above her, he could've sworn he'd seen her smile a bit.

However, he noticed her goggles were no longer on her head.

It was a shame, he liked those on her.

Bruce stood up and sat down on the middle of the roof, hidden from anyone's view.

He laid there for a couple hours, looking up at the foggy sky, just glad to be home, and he eventually fell asleep.

* * *

Selina watched him go out of sight. The entire day, all he'd seemed to care about was making sure she was safe.

When she'd heard the gunshot… A million worst-case scenarios had raced through her head.

Then she saw him sitting on the rooftops.

He looked like a phantom, with the full moon shining directly behind him. She could've sworn she'd seen him smile, which in turn made her smile.

A minute or so after Bruce had gone out of sight, Alfred told her, "Come on, Miss Wayne. Let's get you home."

Selina nodded, not really hearing him.

* * *

When Bruce woke up again, it was around midnight and all the cops had cleared out of the Factory, along with all the stolen stuff Clyde had had.

He dropped down into the storage room where he found Cat's goggles on the floor. She must've dropped them when they were trying to escape.

Bruce didn't know how he ended up at Wayne Manor, but he did.

He scaled the wall and entered Selina's study where he found her, reading through files and staring at the huge cork board covered with names and pictures and red string.

"Your security still sucks," Bruce announced, causing her to jump in surprise.

She whirled around, but smiled when she saw who it was. She told him, "No one's hunting for me. I didn't expect to see you again," she said.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "We never said goodbye."

"No, we didn't," Selina replied.

"Well, I didn't want to be rude," Bruce joked.

"I-it's good to see you," Selina told him.

Bruce held out a paper bag full of stuff for her to take. "Here," he said.

Selina came closer and took it. She opened it and found all the stuff that they'd left at the Factory inside. She smiled lightly, saying, "Thank you, but you could keep this. You need it more than I do."

Bruce shook his head. "Nah, let's keep things honest between us. Besides, I needed to bring you these," he said, pulling out the welding goggles from his jacket pocket.

She came closer to look at them.

He'd probably walked all the way from Gotham just to give her these. The whole thing made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But she felt something else when she looked back up at him.

Selina acted on impulse.

She stood up on her tippy toes and kissed Bruce straight on the lips, catching both of them by surprise.

However, Bruce quickly overcame the shock and kissed her back, resting his hand lightly on her back as she cupped his face in hers hands.

The entire kiss probably only lasted a few seconds, and it was complete bliss for the pair of them. But Bruce knew he couldn't get close to her. He knew he had to stop all of this.

For her sake.

He pulled away and smiled at her. He whispered, "See you around, Cat," and walked back out of the balcony window.

Selina kept her eyes closed for a couple seconds after he'd gone, savoring the feeling of him kissing her.

She was jarred from her thoughts by Alfred entering the room. He asked, "Having a little chat, are we, Miss Wayne?" There was a knowing smirk on his face.

She smiled. "Thinking out loud," she told him.

"Right," he responded. "Right. Of course you are." He closed the balcony doors and turned back to her. "Shall I take that for you?" he asked, gesturing to the package she was holding behind her back.

She nodded, handing him the package in her left hand. However, she kept her other hand firmly planted behind her, still hiding the welding goggles.

Alfred sighed. "The old house seems very quiet without him, doesn't it?"

Selina nodded. "Yes, it does."

"Shame, really. I was just starting to like that boy," Alfred said with a chuckle.

Selina raised her eyebrows. "No you weren't. You hated him."

He smiled. "Well, best be off to bed, Miss Wayne. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Alfred," Selina replied.

She went back to her room and entered her closet where she'd hung up her street clothes. Alfred had wanted to throw them out, but Selina forbid him from doing so. She took the hanger down and hung the goggles around the hook, completing the outfit.

She sighed wistfully. Something about the streets had drawn her in, and she laid in bed, restless, wishing she could be back in the Narrows with Bruce.

* * *

Bruce scaled down the wall and waited until he heard the balcony doors slam shut. He shook his head, scolding himself for kissing that girl, but also reminiscing in the feeling of it.

Sure, it wasn't his first kiss, but it was still more special than anything he'd had before with anyone else.

 _Stop it!_ he told himself. _If you get close, you'll only get hurt._

To be honest, he was more worried about Selina getting hurt than him. The thought of what Clyde had almost done, what he could've done…the Narrows wasn't a place for her. She was too good for the people there.

He started walking back towards Gotham, driven by the thought of getting as far away from Selina Wayne as physically possible.

As he walked, he realized the real gravity of the situation he'd put her in. He'd never been worried about getting sold into child trafficking. He'd never thought about it as a kid, and now he was too old-looking to just be taken by someone.

But it could've happened to Selina. He could've sentenced her to that fate and there would've been nothing he could do about it.

Bruce shook his head. Never again would he put her in harm's way, and if that meant never seeing her again, so be it.

A firm hand on his shoulder jarred him from his thoughts.

He turned back and saw that a dark van had stopped and several men in masks were approaching him.

Bruce reacted immediately, grabbing for his knife and slicing the arm of the man who'd already reached him.

The others surged forward, and Bruce was quickly overrun, although he liked to think that he did quite some damage prior to getting pinned to the ground. He felt the prick of a needle in his neck, and everything started to go fuzzy.

Before he was completely blacked out, however, a man without a mask came and stood over him.

It was dark, and everything was blurry, but Bruce got the gist of what he looked like.

The man said in a foreign accent, "Calm, my heir. It is time to rest. _Rest_ ," he insisted.

Bruce knew didn't want to pass out, but the man's words were so powerful that he did as he was told and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

 **A/N: *Cue dramatic music* "Oh, no, what's gonna happen to Bruce?" You'll just have to wait and see :)**

 **But in all seriousness, thank you all for your continued support on this series. I'm finally in summer, so updates will be coming out very frequently, if a bit randomly. Yeah, that thing about only updating on Tuesdays and Fridays isn't gonna happen, cause I can't physically stop working on this project even if I wanted to (which I don't). Review if you enjoyed or have any critiques/questions, and thanks for reading!**


	7. A Concrete Room

**A/N: Okay, so I always try to keep the Top Author Note short and to-the-point, but I wanted to thank you all for your continued support. To be honest, I found Gotham last summer and I watched the first three seasons on Netflix and then watched Season 4 as it came out live. I'd never seen what happened on Fanfiction during a Gotham offseason, and I assumed it'd be kind of dead.**

 **Boy…was I wrong. The amount of stories that are being produced, even without any new weekly content, is amazing. I've never seen anything like this. Even with Season 5 being postponed and shortened to 13 episodes starting in the spring of 2019, the fandom is going strong. So, in conclusion, thank you for your support and make sure to stick around as I'm just getting started.**

 **Oh, and there isn't a Bottom Author Note for this chapter, so this is the last you'll hear from me until the next one. Enjoy!**

 **A Concrete Room**

"But, Alfred, you're being so unreasonable!" Selina wined as her butler and guardian bustled around her room, packing clothes into her trunk.

Alfred sighed. "I think some time away from Gotham will be good for you, Miss Wayne."

"No, you think some time away from _Bruce_ will be good for me," Selina argued back.

"Although I do not personally like your relationship with Mr. Kyle, that isn't why we're going," Alfred responded. "Ever since your parents died, you've done nothing but sit inside and research things you shouldn't, and then you go and almost get yourself killed. I spoke with Dr. Thompkins and she agrees with me that you should take some time abroad, clear your head."

Selina huffed. Alfred had made up his mind and there was no changing it.

"At least let me safe goodbye to Bruce, first," Selina requested.

Alfred shook his head. "Our flight leaves in an hour, and you still need to pack."

She sighed. "Fine." Alfred walked out of the room and she wistfully whispered, "I hope he's alright, wherever he is..."

* * *

Bruce finally came to.

His entire body was aching from being drugged. He'd had alcohol a couple of times in his life and had even tried a few drugs, but that high was something completely different from the hangover he was experiencing.

Beams of artificial light filled his eyes and he grimaced. After a few seconds of squinting, his eyes adjusted and he looked down at where he was sitting.

He was tied to a rickety, wooden chair in the middle of a concrete pit.

The walls were several meters high, too tall for him to run up, and there seemed to be nothing but the gravel-covered floor below and two weird, short ladders, each only three rungs long, at the top of two opposite walls.

On the roof of wherever he was, spotlights had been turned on and sent down at the pit.

Curious if he was alone, he called into the space above the pit, "HEY!"

No one responded, which hopefully meant he was alone.

Bruce focused on his current predicament: he was tied to a chair.

The bindings were too tight to shake off, and the rope was too strong for him to break by brute force. However, he noticed that the chair creaked and groaned and even dipped a bit as he moved around.

He had an idea.

He started hopping over to a less-gravelly part of the pit where executing his plan wouldn't hurt as much.

He found a spot that was almost completely clear of gravel and leaned up on his feet, lifting the chair into the air. He swung the chair back down onto the ground and he felt it start to crack. He did this again and he felt the chair break even more. Taking in a deep breath, he leaned forward one last time and then brought the chair down with all the force and momentum he could muster.

The chair shattered, sending wood everywhere. Bruce landed on the pile of splinters and shards. He groaned and winced in pain, but at least he wasn't tied to a chair anymore.

He looked around the edges of the pit, expecting the people who'd put him there to swarm in and retie his bonds, but no one came.

New problem: trying to get out of the pit.

He scanned the pit again for anything useful, but there was nothing except the walls, the floor, the broken chair, the two small ladders at the top, and the rope he'd been bound in.

The rope!

Bruce shifted through the pile of scraps and pulled out the cord.

He pulled on it and found that it was extremely sturdy, definitely enough to hold his weight. Bruce looked back up at the ladders and suddenly realized where he was.

He was in a diving well at an abandoned swimming pool. It was probably the one in Gotham's West Village, which, if memory served him right, had closed down a few years back.

Bruce unraveled the chords like a whip and tried to crack it, but the chord itself was a bit too lightweight.

He glanced over at the pile of wood and took a particular piece, wrapping an end of the rope around it and tying it the best he could.

Bruce looked at his handiwork with satisfaction, and moved right below one of the ladders. He swung the heavy end of the rope around a couple times before throwing it straight up. It hit the ladder, but didn't wrap around the metal posts like he'd hoped it would.

Huffing, he tried again. This time however, it made it through the gap he was aiming for, and seemed to lock in place in between two posts. Bruce pulled on it a couple times to make sure it was stable, and then started pulling himself up, hand over hand.

He was only a couple feet from the ladder when the wood he was using as a hook started to become unstable and Bruce felt it start to give under his weight.

Knowing it was his last chance, Bruce threw himself up the wall as high as he could and reached out to the ladder.

As the makeshift grappling-hook fell to the floor, he grabbed onto the bottom rung of the ladder. Mustering up all the strength his sore muscles could manage, he climbed up a rung, and then another so his feet could get onto the bottom rung.

Bruce pulled himself over the edge and collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard. However, he knew it wasn't over yet.

Once again, relying on all the power he could muster, he stood up and ran out of the pool.

He found an exit door and busted through it, arriving on the streets of Gotham.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Bruce, a man and woman had been standing in a room with one way glass that overlooked the pool. They'd been watching his every action, and as soon as he was out the door, the woman stopped her stopwatch.

"Two minutes and forty-two seconds," she told the man. "That's unheard of."

"Yes, it is," the man agreed. "And most of the others who have done this test hadn't been drugged prior. Next time, we must try and make it more difficult for the boy. He is my heir, after all."

* * *

Bruce didn't stop running until he reached the Flea. He wasn't quiet sure why he went there, but his subconscious must've had a reason for bringing him there, so he entered the abandoned building.

He made his way to the back of the warehouse and slumped down a wall, breathing hard from his run.

 _What just happened? Why didn't they just kill me?_ These were only a few of the millions of thoughts shooting through his head.

He was interrupted by a familiar voice, asking, "Bruce?"

He looked up and saw Zee standing opposite to him. "Hey Zee," he mumbled weakly.

"Oh my God," she muttered, rushing towards him and taking the sides of his face in her hands. "What happened to you?" she asked, rubbing over several bumps and cuts and scrapes that were left over from the previous night when Clyde's goons had beaten the living shit out of him.

"Clyde threatened Cat," he told her simply.

Zee chuckled and shook her head, saying, "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Bruce shrugged, but groaned from the sudden movement. Ever since the previous night, it'd been like he was on a constant adrenaline high, from escaping Wayne Manor, to escaping from Clyde, to kissing Selina, to getting kidnapped, to escaping from his kidnappers, to running back to the Flea. Right then and there, all of the minor injuries he'd ignored were finally catching up to him.

Zee's face went ghostly white and she told him, "You shouldn't be here. If Jack…"

Speak of the devil himself, a sinister voice called, "Is that Brucey that I see?"

Zee froze. "Hey, Jack," she said, standing up and giving him a fake smile.

"Hey, Zee. Lookin' good as always," he turned to Bruce and said, "but _you're_ not. You look like actual shit, man." He nodded to his bodyguards who picked Bruce up off the floor and firmly grabbed Zee by her upper arms. Jack stepped in close to Bruce and said, "You're just the person I was wanting to see, actually. There's someone I want you to meet. Come on, gentlemen, lady"

Jack let them up to one of the back offices. The entire trip, Bruce and Zee had been getting wary glances from other street kids, but no one had said anything.

Finally, Jack showed them into a particular room that Bruce had never been in before. It was dark and damp and the concrete floor was tinted red. There was nothing in it except a couple of chairs in one corner and a wardrobe in the other.

However, they weren't alone in the room.

A man was tied up in the middle of the room and had a piece of duck tape wrapped around his mouth. Other than a few light bruises, he seemed fine, but the horror in his eyes was evident.

Jack cleared his throat and gestured for Bruce and Zee to take a seat.

They complied and Jack began his monologue.

"Bruce, Zatanna, since we're all friends, I feel that I can talk to you about the predicament I'm in." He turned his back to them and opened the wardrobe, continuing, "You see, I asked a friend to do me a favor. It wasn't a big favor and it certainly wouldn't have been hard to do, but my friend didn't do it. Oh, by the way, the tied up guy's name is Geoffrey. You see, my friend and Geoffrey here have something in common: they both lost me a lot of money." He turned back from the closet holding a crowbar, smiling crazily at the pair of them. He sauntered towards the man in the middle of the room and told Bruce and Zee, "Well, my boss isn't too happy about that." He brought the crowbar back and swung it hard into the man's ribs. Both Bruce and Zee lurched forwards, but Jack's bodyguards forced them back down into their seats, both completely helpless. He swung it again, causing the man to cry out in agony. "And when my _boss_ isn't happy," he brought the bar down onto the man again, who'd fallen over onto his side, "I'm not happy. So, here's my predicament." He squatted down next to his victim and told Bruce and Zee, "Either, I can kill them both, Geoffrey and my other friend, that is, quickly and send a message, but lose two valuable allies, or I can beat one to death in front of the other, and keep one alive while still sending a message." He playfully poked the man who was now crying from the pain of what were probably several broken ribs. "Well, I had to make a decision, and I choose Plan B." He stood up and started hitting the man, over and over, striking mostly his sides and chest and back, but occasionally swinging at his head as well. Zee had shut her eyes but Bruce looked on, refusing to give into Jack's mind games. Finally, Jack stopped beating the remainder of what used to be a man. He grinned and looked up at Bruce. "Get the message?" he asked.

Bruce didn't respond.

The only sound in the room was the hitched breathing of the man.

"He's still alive!?" Jack exclaimed like a kid at Christmas. He turned back to Bruce and shook his head, saying, "Oh, and that's the wrong answer."

Jack took a pair of latex gloves from his coat and pulled them on while walking over to the wardrobe. He pulled out a wooden box and removed a revolver from it.

He nodded towards Zee, who'd just opened her eyes, and the two guards that'd been holding her down pulled her onto her feet and dragged her over to where Jack was standing. Zee tried to squirm out of their grasp, but she made no progress.

"No! Jack, don't!" Bruce begged. "Wait!"

Jack smiled at his desperate begging. "Relax, Brucey. Me and Zee are friends, remember? And I don't kill my friends."

Zee was desperately struggling against the men, but to no avail. One of them took her left hand and held it out towards the man on the floor.

Jack took the revolver and held it out for her to take. He told her, "There's one in the chamber, sweetie, and you have two options. Shoot me, and Bruce dies because of you, or shoot Geoffrey here, and you two can both leave unscathed. Cool?"

The guard allowed her to take the gun, but her hand was shaking furiously and she fumbled with it.

Bruce yelled at Jack, "Stop it! Don't make her do this, Jack! I'm sorry!"

Jack perked up at his words. "You're what?" he asked.

Bruce gulped and repeated himself, slowly. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"Sorry for what?" Jack pushed, determined to break Bruce's defiant spirit completely.

"I'm sorry for losing you your money," Bruce told him.

Jack smiled. "That was all I needed to hear. The gun is loaded with blanks, by the way, Zee. I didn't need you to kill him, to be honest." He took the gun back from Zee and the guards let go of her. Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor.

Bruce rushed forward to help her.

He pulled her into an embrace and quietly told her, "It's okay, it's okay. You're gonna be okay."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that last part," Jack said.

The firing of a gunshot rang through the concrete room.


	8. Necessary Heartbreak

**A/N: This picks up right after last chapter, so make sure you read that prior to this one! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Necessary Heartbreak**

Zee screamed at the sharp ring of the gunshot.

Bruce tensed.

Vivid, graphic images of his parent's murders flashed through his head as his brain tried to make sense of what'd just happened.

The bound man was now completely still and silent.

There was a bullet wound in the side of his head.

Jack chuckled darkly and jokingly blew off the barrel of the gun.

"As I was saying," he lulled at the pair of terrified teenagers, "I wouldn't be too sure that _she'll_ be okay. After all, what if the police happened to find a murder weapon with her fingerprints all over it?"

"You're a sick son of a bitch," Bruce told him.

Jack shrugged. "Probably true. But the moral of the story: next time you fail me, the police are gonna get a present, and Zee's gonna have a one hell of a bad day. Clear?"

Bruce clenched his jaw. Biting back a response, he nodded. "Crystal."

"Good," Jack said. He placed the gun back into the box it'd came from and shut it away in the wardrobe. "Now, get out before I change my mind and kill you both," he added with a cold grin.

Bruce held back his anger. He wanted nothing more than to tackle that little shit and beat him still he was unrecognizable.

But, for Zee's sake, he knew he had to hold his temper and comply.

He took Zee's arm around his shoulders and helped her walk out of the concrete room, although he was more or less carrying her.

They got many concerned looks from other street kids as they entered the main silo of the Flea.

Bruce was starting to strain under Zee's weight, accompanied by all the injuries he'd had in the past twenty four hours. "Help," he croaked out. A couple of Zee's friends rushed forward and took her from him, helping her to a couch. Bruce crouched down so they were at eye level and he asked, "Are you alright?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Y-yeah. I'm f-fine," she stuttered out.

Bruce glanced around and noticed they'd attracted a small crowd of street kids, the younger ones straining to see over the heads of the older kids. He turned to them and yelled, "Scram!"

Most did as he commanded, not wanting to get on the bad side of the slightly infamous Bruce Kyle. However, a few of Bruce and Zee's friends stayed to comfort the girl.

Floyd Lawton, an older friend of Bruce's, asked him, "What happened in there? We heard the gunshot, and…well, we thought that Jack…" he trailed off.

Bruce nodded. "Jack was mad at me…" he paused, debating what to say next. "So, he beat some guy near to death in front of us to scare me. Then he shot him," Bruce finished in a flat tone, intentionally leaving out the part where Jack had forced Zee to take the gun, thereby putting her fingerprints all over the murder weapon.

"Why'd he take Zee then?" another girl named Zinda asked.

Bruce shook his head. "I have no idea," he responded flatly.

"It was a mind game," Zee spoke up. All eyes turned to her, and she continued, "He's scared."

"Scared of what?" Zinda asked.

"Bruce," Zee responded simply. "He's scared of Bruce."

"Me?" Bruce asked. "Why would he be scared of me?"

Floyd scoffed. "Did you not just see what all those kids did when you told 'em to scram? They went running with their tails tucked between their legs, dude."

Bruce shook his head. "So what?"

" _So_ ," Zee started, "you have influence. And when someone besides the guy on top has influence…"

"The guy on top sees a new threat," Floyd finished. "Zee is right, Bruce. Jack is scared."

"But he has Maroni behind him," Bruce argued.

Floyd glanced at Zinda. "Have you not been paying attention recently?" he asked Bruce.

Bruce shook his head. "I've been away for a while."

Floyd glanced around the Flea, looking for anyone eavesdropping. Seeing no immediate threat, Floyd told Bruce, "Rumor has it that Falcone's getting old and weak, so Maroni's started to get aggressive."

"So?" Bruce asked.

"So, when Maroni crosses the line, and I guarantee you that he will, Falcone might have to take him out. So, if Jack loses his backing by Maroni…who's to say that he stays in charge of the Flea?" Bruce could sense Floyd was starting to get excited. It was common knowledge that the Lawton Brothers had had a bone to pick with Maroni, and then, suddenly, Floyd's older brother Eddie Lawton turned up dead. There was a rumor that Jack Napier himself was the person who pulled the trigger, that Maroni had been testing Jack's loyalty.

"That's a big if," Bruce commented dryly, trying to discourage Floyd's talk of what would essentially be a coupe. "Look guys, I just got back to Gotham, and I've had a rough day. So, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go home and get some sleep."

Floyd shrugged. "Just think about it, okay? No one likes Jack, but the kids in the Narrows respect you…"

"Knock it off, Lawton," Zinda told Floyd.

Floyd rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just think about it."

He walked off, and most of the other kids did the same, sensing that Bruce and Zee wanted to be left alone.

When they were officially alone, Bruce asked her, "Are you sure you're gonna be alright?"

She still seemed a bit shaken up, but she nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, B. I'll be fine." She paused, not sure of what to say next. "What about you?" she asked.

Bruce shrugged. "I've seen worse," he told her.

Bruce noticed something in her eyes. They looked different than before. Sure, they'd always had an edge in them, which was a clear sign of a street kid, but there was something else, too.

Something new.

Bruce froze as he felt her lips press onto his. His eyes closed on their own as he kissed her back. He liked the feeling, but something in the back of his head started to scream at him that this was wrong.

After what was probably just a couple seconds, Zee pulled back and told him, "Thank you, B," before abruptly standing up and walking away.

Bruce was left there, utterly confused over what had just happened, watching her go.

Apparently, some of the other kids had been slyly watching the two, and Bruce got a lot of looks as he exited the Flea.

He didn't know where his legs were taking him.

He could've ended up at Wayne Manor, again, for all he knew.

However, his feet somehow knew exactly where he subconsciously wanted to go.

Bruce was going home.

* * *

He pushed the buzzer and a familiar gruff voice asked, "Who is it?"

"Henry?" Bruce asked.

The other end went eerily silent, but Bruce could hear loud footsteps thundering towards the door.

The door to the gym was thrown open and there stood Bruce's adopted father, Henry Grant.

Henry took one good look at the boy, making sure it was really him, before throwing a fist at him.

Stars swam in Bruce's eyes as he recoiled from the blow.

Henry dragged him inside and screamed, "Where the hell have you been?! You were gone for _weeks_! You could've been _dead_ for all we knew…" his voice cracked and he stopped yelling.

Henry grabbed Bruce and pulled him into a tight embrace. Bruce could feel the man's tears running down Henry's face, slightly wetting Bruce's hair, but he didn't mind. It beat getting beat up, anyways.

Henry kissed Bruce on both cheeks and said, "I was so worried…"

Bruce saw the anger come back in his eyes and was just able to back up enough that he didn't receive the full force of his father's next swing. "Where were you?!" he demanded.

Everyone in the gym, which were only a couple guys in the ring and two guys over at the bench press, were watching the events unfold, but Bruce didn't really care. He told Henry, "I got picked up at Tin's place last month."

"Why were you there?" Henry asked.

Bruce shrugged. "I got a hold of some stuff I wanted to sell, and he was the best Fence in the Narrows."

Henry shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask how you got out, I'm just glad you're home. Now go get cleaned up," he told Bruce, returning to his usual gruff voice. "You look like something the cat dragged in."

Bruce scoffed, but did as his father told him. It sounded like Henry had assumed he'd been sent to Juvie and escaped...and Bruce was going to let him think that.

Finally, he was home and life could revert back to normal.

At least, that's what Bruce was hoping for.

* * *

Selina bolted out of the car the second Alfred hit a red light.

"Miss Wayne! Get back here!" he yelled, but Selina ignored him, sprinting through the alleyways of Gotham until she came across a fire escape.

Ascending to the rooftops, Selina breathed in the fresh, yet revolting, Gotham air, happy to be home. However, she had a mission and that was her first priority.

Granted, Switzerland was nice, but she hadn't been able to enjoy it fully. The thought of Bruce alone in Gotham for a whole month was constantly nagging at her, and even though she knew he was a street-kid, she still worried that something might happen to the boy without her there to save him.

Selina approached the first edge at top speed, craving the sensation of flying from rooftop to rooftop, something that Alfred had banned her from doing after he'd caught her climbing a chalet's drainage pipes.

The whole world seemed to slow down as she glided across the gap, not a fear in the world.

Her feet made contact on the other side and she grinned. "Home sweet home," she muttered, before starting towards the Flea.

She got some odd looks entering the building. She realized she was still wearing the petite, girly clothes Alfred forced her to wear when going out or traveling, and this time, she wasn't with Bruce to scare passersby off.

Making a beeline to the back of the Flea, she looked around for Zee, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

She asked one of Zee's friends, "Hey, have you seen Zee?"

The girl shook her head. "I haven't seen her around here in a while." The girl introduced herself as Zinda and asked, "Aren't you that girl that Bruce was hanging out with about a month ago? It's Cat, right?"

Selina nodded and asked, "Have you seen him?"

Zinda shrugged. "Yeah, I see him around every now and then."

"Do you know where he's staying?" she asked the girl.

Zinda paused, thinking. Drawing a blank, she shook her head, "No, why?"

Cat reached into her back pocket and took out a letter, asking, "Next time you see him, could you give this to him?"

Zinda took the envelope and nodded slowly. "Sure…" she paused. "Out of curiosity, are you two like – ya know – a thing?"

Selina shrugged. "No idea. So you can give it to him?" she asked, trying to return to the matter at hand.

Zinda nodded. "Sure thing, kid. Oh, and next time you come around, I'd wear something a little less cute."

Selina smirked. "Yeah, I figured that one on my own. Thanks," she said, turning and leaving the Flea to go find Alfred, who was probably worried out of his mind.

* * *

A half hour later, Bruce heard the buzzer go off at Henry's gym. Ted was in the ring, sparring like always, and Henry was nowhere to be seen, so he answered the door.

"Hey, Zinda," he greeted the blonde girl. "What's up?"

She handed him a letter. "This got dropped off at the Flea for you," she said gravely.

Bruce looked down at it and his smile disappeared. "Shit," he muttered.

"No kidding. Well, you'd best not keep the Princess of Gotham waiting," she teased. "See ya around, Bruce."

Bruce said goodbye and then closed the door, taking the envelope up to his bedroom in the loft where he read:

 _Dear Bruce,_

 _I just got back to Gotham and I thought we should talk._

 _If you got this letter, I probably couldn't find you to tell you in person that you don't need to worry, nothing's wrong._

 _I figured that with everything that's happened, we should talk, face to face._

 _I left the study window unlocked, although I doubt you'd have a hard time breaking in without it._

 _Either way, I look forward to our next meeting._

 _~Selina~_

Bruce tossed the letter onto his nightstand and laid back on his small, creaky bed.

It'd been over a month since he'd left Wayne Manor and gotten kidnapped, and in that time, a lot had happened.

Bruce hadn't talked to Zee about the kiss. It seemed like neither knew what to say in regards to it, so they both ignored the topic when around one another.

And that left Bruce in a really bad spot.

He liked Selina a lot, but knew that they could never have a serious relationship. They were who they were: Selina was a billionaire, and Bruce was street trash, plain and simple. Yeah, they'd shared a kiss, and, from what Bruce understood, it'd been her first, but was it just that? Was it just a kiss and nothing more? Besides, the longer he was around Selina Wayne, the more danger he put her in. So was him being around her just him being selfish?

On the other hand, he and Zee had grown up together. She'd been through a lot of the same crap as him and they'd been there for each other. They'd always had somewhat of a flirty relationship, but Bruce had never consciously thought of her as any more than a close friend. Then she'd kissed him, and, suddenly, he realized that he felt something more for her than he'd originally thought, something which had been dormant until Jack had woken it up when Bruce thought he was going to shoot her.

As per usual, all of Bruce's problems traced back to Jack Napier.

But, the next choice was his, not Jack's.

He could either go talk to Selina and turn her down, or ignore her all together and thereby ignore the problem, which could lead her on.

"Dammit," he swore under his breath.

"Language," someone else chided.

Bruce shot up into a seated position and saw Ted standing there, still sweating hard from his workout, which was only the second of four he'd do that day.

"What's up?" Bruce's adopted brother asked.

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing."

Ted raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Then what's that?" he asked, nodding to the paper in Bruce's hands.

Bruce started to crumple it up. "Just a message from a friend."

"Oh yeah?" Ted asked. Like lightning, his older brother reached out and ripped the letter from Bruce's grasp. Bruce tried in vain to get the letter back from his sibling, but Ted just shoved him away offhandedly and read it.

"Who's Selina? She your girlfriend?" he asked with a teasing tone.

Bruce finally got the paper away from him. "No…"

Ted cocked his head to the side and asked, "Wait a minute, you're having girl trouble, aren't you?"

Apparently Bruce's face had gone a bit red, which was a dead giveaway, and Ted nodded.

"You could've just said something. You know," Ted started, a light smirk coming across his face, "I have quite the expertise in that field in particular."

"Oh yeah?" Bruce asked.

Ted nodded. "Believe me, I've seen it all: cheaters, clingers, prom dates that dump you at the dance because they suddenly realize that they're lesbian… That last one's a true story by the way."

Bruce snickered. "Really?"

Ted smiled. "It was freshmen year, and I legit joined the football team purely to impress the head cheerleader, Kathy Kane. When she said yes to going to prom with me, I kinda knew it was too good to be true. Anyways," he sat down on the bed next to Bruce and told him, "you can ask me anything, cause I've probably dealt with it."

Bruce sighed. "I'm kinda caught between a rock and a hard place right now," he told Ted.

"Ooh," Ted winced. "Two girls?"

Bruce nodded. "Anyways, one of them, Selina, I've only known for a little while. Meanwhile, I've known the other girl for basically my whole life…"

"Zinda?" Ted asked. "She's kinda cute, I guess…"

Bruce shook his head. "Zatanna."

"Oh," Ted nodded. He smirked, "Nice one. But go on."

"Well…I kinda kissed Selina, and…the very next day, Zee kissed me…"

Ted winced again. "That's a rough spot," he told Bruce. He thought, which Bruce suspected was remarkably hard work for him, before telling Bruce, "If I've learned anything in these past seventeen years of life, it's that the longer you wait to make a decision, the harder it becomes. It's like boxing: if you hesitate on a right jab, worried of how your opponent might counter it, your opponent will see your hesitation and left hook your sorry ass out." Bruce chuckled a bit, and Ted told him, "But on a serious note: if you want to be in a relationship with one of them, do it. If you don't, tell them. And if they get angry, and call you a manipulative bastard or a son of a bitch or a thousand other things I've been called, then, in my opinion, they aren't worth your time."

Bruce nodded slowly. "I think I get it," he told Ted. Bruce smirked. "Who knew you were _actually_ good for something?"

Ted took a swing at him, but Bruce was already gone and running out of the gym.

* * *

Bruce arrived at the wall of Wayne Manor around noon, and scaled it, taking a good look at the mansion.

He sighed, knowing what he was about to have to do would be hard, but worth it, for both of their sakes.

He jumped down onto the grounds and made his way to the wall below the study.

The glass doors to the balcony were unlocked, just like she'd said they'd be, and he entered the dimly lit room.

Bruce looked around and saw Selina precariously balancing on a chair, trying to pin up the picture of some guy at the top of her cork board. Her back was turned to him, so he alerted her to his presence by clearing his throat and sarcastically commenting, "You're still at that?"

Selina almost fell, but was able to regain her balance after a few panicked moments. She looked back at him sternly, but her mad expression faded in an instant when she saw who it was.

"Ya know, there're taller people in this house who could to that for you," Bruce told her.

Selina shrugged. "Alfred's making lunch," she told him.

Bruce held up her letter and tossed it onto one of the couches. "I got your message," he told her.

She smiled. "I'm glad you're safe. Alfred made me go out of town. Switzerland. We have a house there."

Bruce smirked. "Of course you do." Inwardly, he yelled at himself to focus. "Why'd you want to see me?" he asked.

She blushed a bit. "We're friends, aren't we?" she asked offhandedly.

"You've been running around the Narrows looking for me, sending messages," Bruce told her. "What's up?" he asked.

Selina picked a package up from one of the futons and handed it to him. "I got you a present," she told him.

Bruce couldn't help but smile to himself. He ripped the brown paper off of it and pulled out a long, dark cloak, exactly his style, and judging by its fabric, it was probably worth more than everything else Bruce owned combined.

"The locals say that Natives used to use that fabric during the coldest seasons. You said that thing about how cold Gotham gets in the winter, so…" she trailed off.

He smiled. "Thank you."

"Also, I wanted to know if you wanted to stay here, in my house," she added.

Bruce's eyes rose from the coat to the girl's eyes. That voice in the back of his head screamed at him to accept her invitation, to live a good life with someone who gave a damn about him, to not do what he was about to do.

But, it would be for her own good.

"Why?" Bruce asked, immediately changing the mood in the room. He knew how much courage she had to have been mustering in order to ask him that, but he couldn't think about that, right then. She was thinking short term, and he had to think long term. She didn't have to think about survival, a luxury which Bruce didn't have.

"I-I figured we could help each other out," she stammered. "You can help me find the man who killed my parents, and…I can give you a better place to live."

Bruce saw his opportunity, saw her confidence slip. He knew he had to take the chance given to him. "What's better about it?" he asked, acting as though he was offended about her thinking Wayne Manor was somehow better than the Narrows.

Granted, it was better, but that was besides the point.

Her smile faded instantly.

Bruce shook his head. "Listen, kid: chill." He tossed the jacket onto the couch and said, "I came here to tell you to stop hassling me."

Bruce could feel his heart breaking inside his own chest, but he knew he had to continue.

"H-hassling you?" Selina asked, the hurt of his words evident on her face.

Bruce breathed in. _Here goes nothing_. "Yeah, you're beginning to bug me," he told her with a forced impassive tone.

"I thought we were friends," Selina said, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

Bruce shook his head. "Listen: I lied. I didn't see who killed your parents. I didn't see his face."

"I don't understand," Selina responded.

"I lied so I wouldn't get locked up in Juvie, so it's no use buying me presents, or sending me messages, or trying to hang out. There's no point because _I can't help you_ ," he told her in one breath, emphasizing the last four words.

The look of hurt on her face made him regret saying any of those words, but the damage was already done.

He turned away from her and walked out of Wayne Manor, not stopping until he was safely hidden in the tree line where he sunk down next to a pine.

Just before he'd reached the window, he'd seen tears start to run down her face.

He reached up to his face and realized that he'd been crying, too.

However, what was done was done.

Her life would be a hell of a lot better without him in it, anyways.

It was a necessary heartbreak.

But the thought didn't make him hurt any less.

 **A/N: RIP to any BabyBatCat shippers. Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but I wanted to make sure that I did this one right. I'd kinda fallen into a slump after I posted a Pilot for another series and the response wasn't exactly what I'd hoped. I got down on myself, like I tend to do when something I do doesn't turn out right, and started to question my writing capabilities.**

 **This chapter in particular is one of the biggest BatCat events in Season 1, and I knew that if I screwed it up, I'd regret it later on. But, I finally sat down, locked myself in my room, and wrote it, and I think it turned out well. Also, the next chapter starts with Selina's reaction to Bruce's douche move, so stick around. Anyways, make sure to Review, as any and all feedback, positive or critical (which are really one in the same), makes my day and encourages me to continue writing. Thanks for reading!**

 **Also, if you have any ideas for BabyBatCat oneshots,** _ **PLEASE,**_ _ **I BEG OF YOU**_ **, either Review or Personal Message me them and I'll write it. (Although probably not on this account if it's Mature Content)**


	9. Reunion and Regret

**A/N: I hate to sound repetitive, but like I said before the last chapter: this one picks up right where the last left off, so make sure you read Chapter 8 first, or you might be severely confused. Enjoy!**

 **Reunion and Regret**

Alfred found Selina sniffling on the floor of the study, staring into the blaze of the fireplace. The flames danced in her watery eyes, and she was tightly holding onto a dark cloth.

"You 'aven't gone and burned yourself, again, 'ave you?" Alfred asked her in his usual concerned tone.

"No," she responded flatly, trying to communicate that she didn't want to talk to him.

Alfred either didn't get the memo, or, more likely, he simply didn't care. "Well then, Miss Wayne, what is the matter?" he asked, sitting down next to the girl.

She wiped her nose with her sleeve and told him, "Bruce came by…"

Alfred nodded. "Went that bad, did it?" he asked jokingly, his usual stern and grim mask replaced with a light smirk.

She smiled momentarily at his rare attempt at humor, but it was quickly replaced by the sadness again. "He doesn't know anything," she told him, spite rising in her voice.

Alfred scoffed. "Well, I'd assumed that much, he always seemed rather thick in the head to me…"

"That's not what I meant," Selina told him. "He doesn't know anything about my parent's death. He said that he only told Gordon that he saw the killer's face so he could stay out of jail." She sniffed again. "He was just using me…"

"Well, to be fair, it's probably in his nature, coming from where he does," Alfred told her.

"What's wrong with me?" Selina asked him, her voice starting to crack and the tears renewing.

Alfred put an arm around her shoulders and said, "You trusted him, and he broke that trust. Now, I know it hurts, but it might be for the best, staying away from _his_ type."

Selina nodded. "Maybe…" She took a deep, shaky breath, collecting herself, and then stood up. "But I'm not going to let him get in the way." She took one last look at the beautiful coat she'd bought for him. She'd thought that he would love it...but aparently not. She threw it into the fireplace and watched as it burned. Turning away from the fire, she gazed at the cork board on the back wall. "I'll find new leads," she told Alfred. "This is just a setback."

Alfred nodded. "Atta girl," he encouraged. "And I'll be right here whenever you need me to be," he told her.

Selina looked at him, her eyes now clear of tears, determination replacing the sorrow. She hugged her butler and told him, "Thank you, Alfred."

He smiled. "It is my honor, Miss Wayne."

* * *

Two months.

It had been two whole months since Bruce had last seen Selina Wayne, during which he'd done his best to forget all about Wayne Manor and its residents.

He hadn't realized it at the time, but the burden of having to constantly lie to Selina had been weighing down on him, and getting it off his chest had been good for him.

However, every now and then when it got quiet in the earliest hours of the morning, he could finally hear himself think, and he'd remember that day when he'd first met Selina, and how everything had been looking up. That Bruce had had no idea what was about to come his way.

But, life was good.

At least, that was what he told himself to avoid thinking about the tears he'd left Selina in.

Then, one day while he and Zee were stealing food from the hospital food court, Zee pointed someone out.

Over the past two months, he and Zee had gotten closer and closer, and he'd even went as far to kiss her on her thirteenth birthday. Neither of them considered themselves 'a thing', but practically everyone else in the Narrows did. Zee had told him that Zinda was already looking at bridesmaid dresses.

"Hey, B," she started, "isn't that Selina?"

Bruce looked up and his heart dropped. Sure enough, there stood Selina Wayne, ordering food from one of the counters. Bruce watched in shocked stupor as she walked back to the elevator and headed off to somewhere else in the hospital. "What's she doing here?" Bruce murmured to himself.

Zee came up next to Bruce and told him, "Go talk to her."

"What?" he asked, taken off guard by her suggestion.

"From what you told me, you were a douche last time you talked. Go apologize," she told him.

"But…" Bruce began.

Zee raised an eyebrow. "Bruce Robert Kyle, if you don't go and apologize this instant, I will personally beat the living shit out of you, right here, right now. Now go talk to her."

"Why'd I tell you my middle name?" Bruce mumbled. She crossed her arms and stuck her hip out in defiance, showing him that she wasn't going to drop this. Bruce relented, knowing that whenever Zee made a threat, she typically went through with it. "Fine. I'll be back in a minute." As he walked towards the elevator, he called over his shoulder, "And save some food for me!"

"No promises!" she replied.

* * *

Bruce took the elevator to the third floor, which was where Selina had gotten out. He approached the front counter and asked, "I'm here to see Selina Wayne?"

The lady at the desk looked at her computer and told him, "Miss Wayne is here, but she isn't who is checked in. If you're looking for Mr. Pennyworth, he's in room 302. It's just down the hall and to your left."

Bruce thanked her and made his way through the hospital. He felt his palms start to get sweaty with anxiety and he wiped them off. He didn't know what to expect when Selina saw him, but he seriously doubted that it'd be a positive reaction. Unfortunately, he arrived at the open door of room 302.

He crept around the corner and heard Selina reading some odd-sounding book to an unconscious Alfred. "-and seeing no pity in the glittering multitude," she finished.

"That's cheerful," Bruce sarcastically commented.

Selina shot up from her chair, a mix of shock, anger, and recognition showing on her face.

"Hey, Cat," he greeted. "It's been a while."

She stared at him for a few seconds; a dull fire being alit in her eyes.

She slapped him.

Bruce stumbled backwards. He rubbed over the spot where she'd hit him and quietly commented, "I probably deserved that."

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, the dull anger being replaced with utter fury at his nerve to show up, then and there of all places.

"Zee and I snuck in to steal food from the sickies," Bruce told her. "She spotted you." Bruce paused, studying her. She'd grown in height since the last time he'd seen her, although he was still nearly half a head taller, and she'd let her hair grow out a bit more. Bruce thought it looked good. Snapping himself back to reality, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She wiped at her eyes and asked, "What's it to you?"

Bruce looked down at the ground. "It's probably worth nothing at this point, but...I'm sorry, Selina," he told her. He took a deep breath and told her, "It was for your own good."

"My own good?" she asked, anger starting to fill her voice. Bruce slid the door closed behind him, as she started yelling, "Telling me off for _hassling_ you was good for me? Lying to my face over and over about seeing my parent's killer's face was good for me? How about kissing me, and then dumping me, huh? Was _that_ good for me?" she demanded.

Bruce chose not to point out the fact that it'd been _her_ who'd kissed _him_ , instead saying, "I'm sorry, Cat. But leaving you alone was the best thing I could've done for you."

"And why is that?" she demanded, still practically shaking with unvented anger.

"I got kidnapped," Bruce told her, flatly. As she registered his words, the look of anger was extinguished and replaced with that of concern. Bruce continued, "After I left the Manor that night, I got drugged and kidnapped. Then, when I escaped, I got to watch a man get beaten nearly to death, in front of me. And then, I got to watch while Zee was forced to hold the gun that killed him." He stopped to take a breath. Eyes full of shame, he told her, "Selina, I was scared, and I hurt you. And for that, I am truly sorry."

Selina stared at him. "Well…that's very convoluted reasoning…" she said with a quiver in her voice at the end.

The retort didn't hold its intended effect, as almost the second Selina finished, she walked forward and threw her arms around his neck. It took Bruce a second or two to realize that she wasn't attacking him, and he hugged her back. They embraced for what felt like a short eternity, but Bruce still felt that it ended too soon. "I'm sorry," he said into her shoulder. "I screwed up."

She chuckled sadly. "Yeah. You did." Bruce let her go and she returned to her chair. "But what else would I expect from you?" she quipped, wiping away a few stray tears.

Bruce smirked. Glancing over at Alfred, he decided to address the second elephant in the room. "What happened to him?" he asked.

Selina sighed and told him all about Alfred's old war buddy: Reggie Payne. She told him how he'd gained her and Alfred's trust, only for Alfred to catch him stealing from them. Then, Reggie stabbed him.

"Weird…" Bruce whispered, running through the scenario in his head.

"What's weird?"

"Well, you said that Payne was in the Special Air Service, right?" She nodded and Bruce continued, "So he would know how to kill someone with a knife…"

Selina thought about it. "So, Reggie may have not been there to kill Alfred, after all…"

"What did he steal, exactly?" Bruce asked.

She shrugged. "A whole bag of random crap, none of it really expensive, but some of my files were missing."

Bruce asked, "Did he say anything about where he'd been staying? Or did Alfred say anything about him before…well…before he got here?"

Selina wracked her brain. "I think I overheard Alfred say something to Reggie about him getting blind drunk at a shooting gallery…" She paused. "Why would he be drinking at a gun range?"

After realizing Selina wasn't pulling his leg, Bruce stifled a laugh. Selina asked what was so funny and he told her, "They're not the same thing, Selina. I'll see what I can dig up." He started to walk out. Just as he reached the door, he turned back and told her, "You don't need to worry about Reggie Payne, by the way," and with that he left.

"What are you going to do?" Selina called, but he was already gone.

She shook her head. Turning to Alfred, she whispered, "Damn him."

Alfred's eyes slowly opened, and Selina realized he'd been awake the whole time. "Language," he scolded, weakly, before closing his eyes and going back to sleep.

* * *

The second Bruce was out of her line of sight, the fake, confident smile he'd put on vanished.

He knew what he had to do next, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

A couple minutes later, Bruce and Zee arrived at the doors to the Flea. He took a wary glance at her and saw just how pale she'd suddenly become. "Hey, you know you don't have to come in with me, right?" he asked her gently.

Her jaw clenched and she nodded. "If it's alright with you…"

"It's fine, Zee. Go home," he told her. "I'll probably be at the Gym later tonight if you want to come by and hang out, or whatever."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hang out? What is this, a social visit with a psychopath?"

Bruce shrugged. "I just need to ask him to do a favor, is all. Don't worry."

She nodded. "Okay…but be careful, Bruce."

She gave his hand a light squeeze and walked away.

When she was out of sight, Bruce sighed in relief. In a way, he felt better entering the Flea alone, rather than having Zee with him. Especially considering who he was about to go talk to, and what he was about to do.

Bruce entered the Flea, and within seconds, the room had gone eerily quiet. Dozens of beady eyes stared him down as he calmly walked through the warehouse, making his way to the back staircase that led to Jack's office.

Jack saw him coming and smiled wickedly. "Brucey! Where've you been, man?" he lulled. He nodded to the television that was showing the news. "Did you hear about this guy?"

Bruce shook his head and Jack told him, "He killed him mom with his bare hands, so they say. Then he went insane in the interrogation room." Jack gazed at the screen in utter fascination.

Bruce shrugged. "Isn't that kinda normal around here?" he asked.

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose it is, but…he just seems so…what's the word?"

"Psychotic?" Bruce offered passive-aggressively.

Jack didn't catch his tone and he exclaimed, "Exactly! Such, presence…" He flicked the TV off and turned to Bruce. "So, how have you been doing? It's been a while since our last…meeting," he said, ending the sentence with a dark chuckle.

Bruce shrugged. "I'm alright. Actually, I'm here because I need a favor," he told the older boy.

Jack grinned and nodded for him to go on.

"I'm looking for someone, a criminal for hire named Reggie Payne. A friend told me he'd be in a shooting gallery somewhere in Gotham, probably half drunk to death…"

Jack held up a hand. "Say no more. Turner!" he yelled.

Bruce found that the yell was quite unnecessary, since Ben Turner was standing right next to Jack. However, Turner didn't seem surprised by it whatsoever.

Jack asked Bruce, "Have you two met?"

Bruce nodded. Ben was only seventeen, but he was six feet tall and probably double Bruce's weight. Bruce shook the older boy's hand, and Ben asked him, "How's Ted doing?"

"Alright," Bruce said, anger starting to flare up in his chest. Ben had been a prodigy boxer, and had been the only person to ever last five rounds with Ted, until he'd gotten himself disqualified because he'd had weights in his gloves. It'd taken Ted weeks to recover from the fight, and he still had some nasty scars.

Jack cleared his throat to break the tension. "Anyways, Ben, I want you to send a message: first person to bring me Reggie Payne's head earns a favor from me, personally."

"That's not what I meant!" Bruce told him, losing his cool momentarily. "I just need to find him and interrogate him." Bruce knew that in order to reach Jack, he had to talk to him on his level of crazy. So, he mentally removed himself from the situation, and emotionlessly told Jack, "He's useless dead."

Jack considered this for a moment. "Fine. Ben, switch that from his head to his right middle finger," he said, as though chopping off someone's finger was a perfectly normal thing to suggest.

Bruce sighed. Figuring that was the best offer he was going to get from Jack, he agreed. "Fine. I'll be downstairs."

Jack grinned as two of his guards blocked Bruce's path. He lulled, "Now, now, Brucey, it isn't polite to not say thank you. And if there's one thing I won't stand for, it's a lack of manners…" he growled.

Bruce took a deep breath, reminding himself that, A: He needed Jack's help, and B: There were six other guys in the room who'd jump in to protect the scrawny kid, and six on one would be more than an unarmed Bruce could handle by himself. So, he turned to face Jack and spat an insincere, "Thank you."

Jack smiled, not caring that Bruce wasn't actually being grateful, instead, he was just pleased that he'd gotten the boy to do what he'd told him to.

"That's all I ask…" he told Bruce creepily.

* * *

After just over an hour of waiting, two big guys lugged a burlap sack into the Flea, dragging it upstairs. Bruce followed suit, and they arrived in the concrete room.

Bruce felt a chill rush down his spine, seeing the red stains in the center of the floor and knowing that some of them had been from the brains of the man that he and Zee had seen die.

One of the men pulled a brown paper bag from his coat and tossed it onto a chair.

Bruce the sickening feeling that he knew what was in the bag.

Once again, he was glad Zee had decided to bail on him. He didn't want her to see what he was about to do anyways.

Jack entered, crying joyously, "Yay, you got him! I told you, Brucey, didn't I? Now, let's have a look, shall we?"

One of the behemoths picked up the base of the sack and raised it into the air, dumping its contents out onto the floor.

An older man fell out, his right arm a bloody mess, and his face badly injured. He was motionless.

"You haven't killed him, have you?" Jack whined.

One of the men grunted and shook his head, kicking the man on the floor hard in the ribs.

He groaned and Jack exclaimed, "You see, Brucey? Not dead, as promised."

Bruce circled around so the man was looking at him. "Reggie Payne?"

The man, still wheezing from the kick, spat through a mouthful of blood, "Who's askin'?"

"My name is Bruce, and I'm a friend of the man that you stabbed a few days ago."

Payne seemed to be wracking his brain. It took him a few seconds, but he nodded. "Oh, yeah. How is Alfie doin' anyways?" he asked. Bruce detected genuine concern in his voice.

Bruce scoffed. "Look, buddy, I ask the questions, and you answer 'em. Understand?"

Reggie raised an eyebrow. He told Bruce, "Kid, next time you try and threaten someone, take 'em by the scruff o' their neck, or their collar, or _somethin'_ intimidatin' _._ " Bruce punched him hard in the nose.

"How about that?" Bruce asked.

Payne gurgled out, "But never start with the head…your victim gets all fuzzy."

Bruce took Payne by his collar and demanded, "Who hired you?"

Payne scoffed. "Please, kid. You don't scare me nearly as much as they do. You've got nothin' to threaten me with…"

Bruce stood up, letting Payne's heavy torso slump back onto the ground. He told Jack, "Take off another finger."

Jack laughed joyously, like a kid on Christmas. "Now that's more like it…Ben!"

Turner stepped forwards and removed a long kitchen knife from his belt.

Payne realized the teens were serious and screamed, "Wait! WAIT! PLEASE! I'LL TELL YOU! PLEASE DON'T!"

Jack solemnly nodded to Ben, who stopped his progress, although looking a bit disappointed.

Bruce crouched down and demanded, "Who sent you?"

Payne shook his head. "He'll kill me," he begged Bruce.

"I'll do worse," Bruce growled.

Bruce had never let this side out. The demon inside of him had been caged for so long, and now that it was free, it was like Bruce was an entirely different person.

Payne was almost shaking with fear, or alcohol, or drugs, or a mix of the three. "Alright, alright," Payne relented. "His name was Bunderslaw, but that's all I know, I swear." Bruce raised a fist, and he begged, "Please, don't!"

Bruce stood back up. "I believe you." The two behemoths picked him up under his shoulders and Bruce stepped in close, growling, "If you ever come back to Gotham, I will find you, got it?"

Payne nodded, and Bruce told the two men to take him out.

However, another voice chimed in.

"Not yet, boys," Jack told them.

The two men turned back towards Jack. The leader nodded again to Ben, who stepped forward and abruptly stabbed Payne in the chest with his knife.

"Wait!" Bruce yelled, but it was too late.

The men let Reggie Payne's lifeless corpse collapse onto the ground.

Bruce turned on Jack. "What the hell was that?!" he demanded.

"Are we still getting paid?" one of the men asked in a deep, dopey voice.

Jack ignored the giant and shrugged. "He saw our faces. Besides, if you got all the use out of him that you needed, why keep him around?" Jack asked Bruce, neither sympathy nor empathy his voice whatsoever.

Bruce looked at the bleeding corpse of Reggie Payne.

"You're gonna pay," Bruce told Jack, darkly.

Jack scoffed. "Well, you're hardly a saint. This _was_ your idea, anyhow."

Bruce shook his head. Without another word, he left the concrete room, trying to keep the image of another corpse, bleeding out on concrete, from searing itself into his memory.

However, it was to no avail.

* * *

Hours later, it was Zee who finally found him, sitting motionless on the floor of the bathroom.

His hands were tinged red with dry blood, but his face resembled that of a corpse.

He didn't even look up when she opened the door.

"Bruce?" Zee asked hesitantly.

He hummed, acknowledging her presence, but didn't respond otherwise.

"Are you o-" she stopped herself. He clearly wasn't okay. She knelt down next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to comfort him the best she knew how.

She felt him tense up at first, but he eventually relaxed into her embrace.

Finally, she asked, "What happened? Did you find the guy?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, we found him."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" she asked.

"It would've been. I got all the information I needed from him, but…" he trailed off.

"But?" Zee prodded him on.

He sniffed. "Jack killed him, for no reason." He took a shuddered breath and continued, "And it's my fault."

"No, Bruce…" she started.

"Yes it is!" Bruce exclaimed. "I went to Jack. I ordered the bounty. I brought him to that room. I interrogated him. It's my fault that he's dead. I basically killed him, Zee…"

Zee took the sides of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Bruce," she started firmly, "this is Jack Napier trying to break you, and, right now, he's doing a pretty damn good job at it."

Bruce looked up at her in shock, surprised by the bluntness of her words.

"You didn't kill him, Jack did. Bruce, you've _got_ to stop taking responsibility for the actions of psychopaths," she told him.

He looked up into her eyes and took her hands in his own, saying, "Let's leave Gotham, just you and me. We could go anywhere we wanted. We don't have to stay here."

"Bruce…" Zee started. She sighed. "You know that I'd love that, but…you can't leave, yet." He furrowed his brow in confusion and she continued, "You got yourself mixed up with Cat, and you need to help her."

"But…" he trailed off.

She shook her head. "No 'buts'." He smirked, and she rolled her eyes. "You're such a little kid, sometimes. But, once Cat finds her parent's killer, once all this is over, we can talk about it."

"The 'butts' or the 'leaving Gotham'?" he asked slyly.

She shrugged, a flirtatious smirk forming on her lips as well. "A bit of both." She kissed him on the cheek and then stood up, saying, "Now, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

He nodded, grateful to have someone who cared about him so much.

Around nine the next night, Selina Wayne sat in the study, trying to focus on her research. However, her mind was elsewhere, pondering what Bruce might have done after he'd left the hospital the day before.

She didn't care what he _did_ , really; just that he'd stayed safe while doing it.

Then again, this was Bruce Kyle she was talking about. It was more than likely that he'd almost died several times.

But wasn't that just a part of the fun?

She was jarred from her thoughts by a piercing ringing in the room. She glanced over at the telephone and saw an unfamiliar number calling.

Selina picked up the receiver and asked, "Hello?"

"Hey, Cat," a boy's voice responded. Selina almost melted with relief at hearing his voice.

"Bruce," she started, "are you alright?"

"I'm alive," he replied simply. "Meet me under the Midtown Bridge at midnight. I might have some information you want," and with that, the line went dead, leaving Selina anxious for midnight to come, as well as formulating a way to get out of the house while under the hawk-like eyes of Alfred Pennyworth.

 **A/N: Another chapter in the books! I want to thank all of you for your continued support, and I wanted to say that if you're worried that this is turning into a BrucexZatanna story, don't (I had gotten some worried messages about that and just wanted to clarify). This is still a BrucexSelina storyline, and it will always be that. No matter how far they get split apart, they're the Bat and the Cat…they'll always come back to one another.**

 **Anyways, please review if you enjoyed/have any questions or critiques, as finding an inbox full of messages pushes me to continue writing. Thanks for reading!**


	10. The First Of Many

**A/N: As we enter the final two chapters of Season 1, I'd like to take another opportunity to thank you all for you continued support. It honestly means the world to me that people are enjoying what I'm writing. These last two are going to be much longer than any of the others, as a lot is gonna be going down for our favorite teenage Bat and Cat, so sit back, relax, and enjoy!**

 **The First of Many**

Selina had managed to call a taxi and get over the property line from right under the nose of her watchful guardian.

She'd put on the outfit Zee had picked out for her months ago, which fit a bit more snugly than she'd remembered, and dropped out of her second story window. She asked her driver to take her to Gotham City.

He'd given her a suspicious look. After all, seeing billionaire Selina Wayne going into Gotham City by herself in leather street clothes wasn't a too-common sight. However, she slipped him a hundred dollar bill, and he shut up and drove.

The entire drive, Selina's mind raced with possibilities of what Bruce would tell her when she arrived. Maybe he'd found out that Reggie had left Gotham, or maybe Bruce had found him, but it turned out he'd known nothing? Selina just didn't know, and she didn't like not knowing something, especially when it dealt with the fate of Bruce Kyle.

The cab arrived in Gotham shortly, and once they were across the Midtown Bridge, she told him to stop. Slipping the man two more one hundred dollar bills, she asked him not to mention ever seeing her. The cabbie grunted in response, which Selina took as a yes, and tore off down the dimly lit streets of Gotham.

Selina made her way down a heavily trodden path which led down below the bridge. She got a few glances here and there, but most of the people living there never took notice of her.

However, she had the feeling that she was being watched. Picking up her pace, she walked down the hill a bit faster than what was probably safe.

As she continued the descent, it got darker and darker to a point where she could barely see the path below her. Her foot caught on something, probably a root or a big rock. She flailed her arms out, trying to stay upright, but failed to do so.

She started rolling down the hill, roots and rocks slamming into her as she did so.

Eventually, the descent leveled out and she came to a screeching halt, her back and arms aching from the tumble. A hand took her by the shoulder and asked, "You alright, Miss?" She looked up and saw an elderly man with an overgrown beard and eyebrows. He seemed to have real concern in his voice.

Selina allowed the other person to help her up. She nodded, "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." She started to walk away but the man tightened his grip on her arm.

She looked up at him and saw a dangerous look appear his eyes. She tried to pull away, but his grip continued to tighten like a vise. He shushed her and said in an almost completely different voice, "I don't think you are." He twisted her forearm and found a deep gash. He forcefully pressed his thumb down onto it, causing Selina to gasp in pain. "Come now, little one. I'll take you back to my tent and patch you right up."

Selina looked up at the stranger in shock. She was about to call out for help, to scream that she was being kidnapped or…whatever the man was planning to do to her.

However, another voice beat her to the punch.

"Oi!" a boy's voice yelled.

Selina couldn't see into the shadows where the voice had originated, but didn't need to see the source.

She would've recognized that voice anywhere.

Bruce Kyle came out of the shadows, a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Hands off, Chris," he told the old man.

The man sneered at him. "Ah, Kyle. I was wonderin' when I'd be seein' you around." Several onlookers had taken notice of the confrontation, and started circling around Bruce. The old man continued, "I should have my boys here chop your hands off, stealing from us."

"I didn't steal from you," Bruce retorted, showing no fear of the group of larger men surrounding him. "I stole from Tommy. The last I checked: Tommy's dead, but he never paid up for stealing from Jack."

"And Tommy used to run this place, but now I do," Chris told him, grinning evilly. "So, you owe me."

"If that is true, then that means you owe Jack, who works for Maroni…" Bruce responded.

Chris thought about this for a moment, considering the boy's threat.

Suddenly, his murderous demeanor went away and was replaced with the former expression of kindness, "Fine then. But, if I see you or any of your friends 'round this part again, I'll cut their throats, you hear me, boy?"

Bruce smirked. "What happened to cutting my hands off?"

Chris chuckled merrily and let go of Selina. She rushed over to stand slightly behind Bruce, who mock bowed to Chris, and then took Selina's hand in his own.

She started to blush a bit, but the moment was ruined when Bruce whispered, "We aren't out yet. Come on." As soon as they were out of Chris' line of sight, Bruce dropped her hand and gravely whispered, "Run."

He took off and she followed, making their way towards the Narrows where they ascended a tall building via its fire escape.

Once she was over the edge and they were out of sight, Bruce let out a sigh of relief.

"What the hell just happened?" Selina asked, gasping for breath.

"You just met Christopher Dent," Bruce told her. "I didn't expect him to be the new minor boss down there. Are you okay?"

Selina nodded. "A bit freaked out, but yes, I'm fine. What was up with him?"

Bruce smirked and told her, "He has a bad case of multiple personality disorder. His two sides are opposites, really. The one that tried to help you was the real Chris, but the other one," Bruce physically shivered, "He's bad news."

Selina scoffed. "Yeah, I figured that out for myself. thanks."

Bruce laughed and they fell into a tense silence.

"So…" Selina started, "what did you find out about Reggie?"

Bruce's expression instantaneously darkened. "I found him." He sighed. "I had a...acquaintance track him down."

"Was it the same person you saw when we were at the Flea?" Selina asked. His eyes widened in shock and she rolled her eyes. "Bruce, when you came back you looked like a ghost. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Bruce shrugged in response. "Who is he anyways?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'd rather you not know, for your own good."

"Is he that bad?" she asked. Selina had just witnessed Bruce stand up fearlessly to a literal psychopath while vastly outnumbered _and_ unarmed, so if _he_ was scared of someone… And yet, he'd been willing to go to that person twice, just for _her_...

Bruce nodded. "He's that bad. Anyways, we found him and he told me that he was under the orders of a guy named Bunderslaw."

"Wow…" Selina said. "I figured it would've been a lot harder to get anything out of him."

"He was drunk," Bruce told her flatly. Technically that wasn't a lie, since Payne had definitely been on something when Bruce had interrogated him.

"Where is he?" Selina asked.

Bruce's heart dropped in his chest, and he suddenly felt very queasy. He looked down at the ground, and told her, "The guy, the one that helped me find him, he killed him."

Selina blanched. "I see," she responded quietly.

"I didn't know he was going to do it, and I would've tried to stop him, but it all just happened so fast…" Bruce rambled.

Selina shook her head. "It's okay, Bruce. It's probably better that way."

He nodded, but her words were of no comfort to him. Some part of Bruce had wanted her to go off on him, tell him how horrible a human being he was, and how he was a sick son of a bitch and that he needed to stay away from her. But, instead, she seemed fine with it.

And that scared Bruce more than any tongue lashing she could've dished out.

"Bunderslaw…" she muttered. Bruce could see the cogs turning in her head. "I'll look through the upper level employees of Wayne Enterprises, and I'll call you if I find anything."

Bruce nodded. "Okay…" He paused. "Selina, thank you," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For not being pissed at me," he responded. He still couldn't believe how she'd just forgiven him back at the hospital.

She scoffed. "Oh, I'm still pissed at you. I'm just waiting for the right time to get you back."

Bruce smirked. "Fine. But for now, I'm getting you a taxi and you're going home."

They arrived back at street level, and Bruce did his best whistle, earning the attention of a cabbie.

He opened the passenger door for her and she offered, "Ya know, you could come home with me, sleep in your old room..."

"Tempting," he replied, "but I have stuff to do. Goodnight, Cat."

"Night," she responded, climbing into the cab and driving away.

* * *

Two days later, the phone rang at the Gym. Bruce was sparring with Ted at the time, and when he looked over at the phone, his hands dropped. Needless to say, Ted made him pay for losing concentration.

He was on the floor before he knew what'd hit him.

"Hands up, B," Ted told him.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I'm waiting for a call." Ted helped him up and he exited the ring, rushing over to the phone.

"Which of your girlfriends is it?" Ted called teasingly from the ring.

Bruce removed his gloves, gave Ted a rude gesture, and then said into the phone, "Hello?"

"Hey, Bruce," Selina responded. "I found Bunderslaw."

Bruce hummed for her to go on.

"He's a senior executive at Wayne Enterprises, which means that he'll have an upper level office with a safe in it. If he's hiding anything…"

"It'll be in the safe," Bruce finished. "Is it key or combination?" he asked.

"Key, and they're some of the best locks in the world, so I don't think you could pick it."

"So we need to steal the key," Bruce concluded. "How are we going to do that?"

Bruce heard Selina chortle on the other end. "One of the great things about being the heiress to Wayne Enterprises is that you get invited to a lot of boring formal stuff. And it just so happens that the Wayne Enterprises Charity Gala is on Saturday, and all the senior executives are basically required to be there."

"So?" Bruce asked, knowing what she was implying, but wanting her to say the words.

"So…" Selina started. "Would you accompany me?" she asked.

"Like a date?" Bruce asked.

"Yes…" she responded hesitantly.

Bruce smirked. "It'd be my honor, Miss Wayne," he finally stated, with an over exaggeratedly pompous tone.

"Great," she responded. "I'll have some suits and stuff sent to your place…where do you stay?"

Bruce told her the address of the apartment building that he'd stayed in when his mom was still around. His hand subconsciously drifted to his left breast, where, if he had been wearing his jacket, would've contained the locket he'd found that fateful day.

"Great…I guess I'll see you on Saturday, then," Selina said.

"Until then," he responded.

Selina said goodbye and the line went dead.

Just as she hung up, a thought popped into his head, and it was something he probably should've pointed out before he'd said goodbye: he didn't know how to dance.

He walked over the ring and asked, "Ted, do you know how to dance?"

Ted raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, why?"

"I need to learn how, fast," Bruce stated.

"By when are we talking?" Ted asked.

"Two days."

Ted's eyes widened. "Alright, we've got work to do."

* * *

After an intense day of dancing with one of Ted's 'female friends' from school, Bruce felt much more confident. It was surprisingly easy once he found the rhythm, and, although his feet were killing him, he felt good. Bruce noticed that once they'd finished, both Ted and the girl had seemingly disappeared, but he kept the thought to himself.

Around six, Bruce left the Gym and waited on the front steps of his old apartment building. Not more than thirty seconds after he'd arrived, a sleek, black car pulled up to the building.

The man asked if he was Bruce Kyle, and Bruce nodded. The man helped him unpack several large boxes from the car, and then sped off to his next delivery. Bruce looked at the five huge, cardboard boxes he was left with, and sighed.

He'd gotten some suspicious looks, a street kid lugging along five boxes, all of which were marked with expensive brandings, but he eventually reached the Gym.

Bruce had Ted help him move the boxes into his room, and, luckily, Henry didn't notice.

Ted asked, "Okay, what is all this about, really? And don't lie to me."

Bruce sighed. He proceeded to tell Ted all about Selina Wayne and the escapades they'd been through together. When he finished, Ted just shook his head. "You're a goddamn idiot, you know that?" Ted told him.

Bruce shrugged. "And now you know why I can't tell Henry this…"

Ted nodded. "Yeah, he'd probably flip. Now…onto these," he said, looking out over the boxes full of clothing. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Finally, the night of the Charity Gala arrived, and Bruce put on the outfit he'd settled on. It was made up of a white button up shirt, a navy jacket and tie, dark pants, light brown dress shoes, and a rose gold and leather watch he'd 'found' a few years back.

As he readjusted the tie for the fourth time, he heard a light knock at his door. Bruce glanced over and saw Zee standing there, a curious twinkle in her eyes.

"What're you gettin' all spiffied up for?" she teased, glancing admiringly at his well put together outfit.

"Selina found the guy she was looking for," Bruce responded. "She needs me to steal something from him. It's at some Charity Gala, or something."

She stepped around in front of him and knocked his hands away from his tie, retying it herself.

"Like a date?" Zee asked curiously. Bruce nodded slowly. "I'm glad you're helping her," she told him, seeming sincere.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Bruce asked hesitantly.

Zee raised an eyebrow. "Why would I mind?" she asked, refusing to look up at his face. When he didn't respond, she stated, "It's not like we're a couple or anything."

Bruce was severely confused. He took her tiny hands away from his tie. "Zee, what's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

She sighed. Looking up at him, she answered, "Bruce…I've been thinking a lot recently about… _us_. I won't lie, I do like you, but, I'm just not sure if this is going to work." She reached up to his tie again and resumed fixing it. "This has been a really amazing three months, and I've really enjoyed getting to know you better, but…I can feel you pulling away." He started to respond, but she talked over him, "Don't. Please, Bruce, just don't. I know you like Selina, I know that you've always liked Selina, and I don't want to get in the way of that. Hell, I even told her that I wasn't into you…" She shook her head at her own stupidity and continued, "Bruce, you have a real chance at getting out, and I want you to take it."

"But _we_ can get out," Bruce told her. "Once all this is over…"

"Over?" Zee asked. She laughed mirthlessly and told him, "Bruce, this is never going to be over. No matter where we go, we're just two street kids going up against the world…and we'll lose."

"Zee, please don't…" Bruce started.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, B. It was fun while it lasted." She finished fiddling with the tie and smoothed it out on his chest, telling him, "Goodbye, Bruce."

Bruce stood in a stupor, watching Zee as she walked out of both his room and his life.

He hadn't been expecting that.

However, his alarm clock jarred him from his thoughts. He had to be at Selina's in less than an hour, so he didn't have time to waste.

Taking one last look in the mirror, he tucked a stray lock of his wild hair behind his ear, and then turned and left the loft.

Bruce flagged down a taxi, and spent the majority of the drive to Wayne Manor in a daze. He arrived before he knew it, and after paying the driver, Bruce got out and approached the front doors.

They opened before he got there, and Bruce was met by Alfred. He seemed angry, but was apparently trying to hold in his temper, probably on Selina's orders. "Hello, Mr. Kyle," he said through gritted teeth.

Bruce smirked. "Hey, Jeeves," he replied coolly. He walked through the doors and threw himself down onto one of the couches in the main room. Alfred took the sofa across from him. "Where's Cat?" asked Bruce.

Alfred bit back a witty remark and replied, " _Miss Wayne_ is getting ready. However, before she finishes, I wanted to have a little chat with you."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "About what?" he asked, although he had a pretty decent idea of what Alfred wanted to talk about.

"Miss Wayne," he replied simply. Bruce nodded for him to go on, and Alfred asked, "Have you ever been in a romantic relationship before?"

Bruce felt his face start to heat up. But he knew what Alfred was trying to do. He willed his cheeks to return to their normal color, and then shrugged. "I've been in a couple, here and there."

"Ah, and I'm guessing they were all _your_ type?" Alfred asked pointedly.

"My type?" Bruce questioned.

He knew Alfred was trying to get under his skin, and it probably appeared like he was succeeding, but Bruce wasn't going to go down that easily.

Not by a long shot.

"If you mean street kids, then yeah, but there was this one girl who was middle class and just lived in the Narrows." Bruce smirked: it was _his_ move, now. "Although, that one in particular was more physical than anything else."

This time, it was Alfred who reddened slightly. "And what are your intentions with Miss Wayne?" Alfred questioned.

Bruce seemed to think about this for a moment. He eventually shrugged. "She asked me to do her a solid, and I figured having a favor from a billionaire in my back pocket wouldn't be such a bad thing. Besides, I only want what's best for her," Bruce told him sincerely.

"Oh really?" Alfred pushed. "Then explain to me: why is it that the last time you were here, I found Miss Wayne sobbing on the floor?"

Bruce bit back a retort and told him, "Like I said earlier, I only want what's best for her. At the time, that was the best solution I could come up with."

"Stop talking about me," another voice interjected.

Bruce looked up at the balcony, and his heart skipped a beat.

Standing high above them was Selina Wayne. Her locks of chestnut curls framed her face near perfectly, and her piercing eyes stared right back into his own. Her navy blue dress flowed down to just above her knees, and it seemed to be the exact same color as his jacket.

Out of nowhere, his brain went into overdrive, overanalyzing everything he'd done wrong in the past five seconds, any imperfections in his attire and hair, and essentially any and everything else he could possibly be anxious about.

He was suddenly very glad he'd let Zee do his tie for him.

He smiled weakly and stood from the couch to meet her.

She took a long glance over his outfit and commented offhandedly, "You look nice."

"The shoes hurt," he replied stupidly.

An awkward silence followed, during which Bruce mentally cussed himself out.

He cracked a grin, trying to pass the comment off as a joke. "You look nice, too," he told her. Now that she was closer, Bruce's brain picked up on the fact that she was wearing makeup. Bruce didn't know why it noticed, but it sure as hell did.

Another pair of footsteps rang out from the hallway, and a tall, dark haired woman came out onto the balcony. She smiled down at them, and asked, "So, Selina, this is your date?"

She made her way down the stairs and introduced herself as Doctor Leslie Thompkins. Bruce did his best to be polite and courteous, much to the amusement of Selina who watched on in stifled laughs.

Alfred cleared his throat and said, "Well look at the time, we best be off." He turned to Doctor Thompkins, his usual stern mask melting away. "Once again, thank you so much for helping Miss Wayne."

The doctor smiled warmly. "Oh, it really wasn't a problem. She's so naturally pretty, it didn't take much effort on my part." Bruce could't help but agree. She smiled at Selina and said, "Remember, if you need anything, give me a call, alright?"

Selina nodded and Alfred showed her out, leaving Bruce and Selina alone.

Selina asked in a hushed voice, "Are you ready?"

He nodded. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "These people tried to kill Alfred…"

"And may have been responsible for killing my parents," Selina finished. "Yes, I'm sure."

Alfred came back and asked, "Ready, you two?"

Selina nodded, and Bruce held his elbow out for her to take.

As they walked past the butler arm in arm, Bruce shot him a quick, victorious glance, and Alfred glared in return.

The ride back to Gotham was interesting, to say the least.

It was Bruce's first time inside of a really fancy car (other than the Porsche that he and a friend had hotwired a couple years back) and he was having simultaneous urges to take anything he could fit in his pockets, as well as to not touch anything in fear of breaking it. Most of it was probably worth more than he was.

Whenever Alfred wasn't looking, which wasn't often, he and Selina would run over the plan in hushed voices. It seemed easy enough. They would dance and walk around until they found Bunderslaw, and Selina would distract him until Bruce was able to steal the correct key and return the key ring to his pocket.

What Bruce didn't think about was the amount of attention he and Selina would be receiving. They stepped out of the car to a hailstorm of camera flashes and reporters screaming questions at Selina. Security stepped out in front of them, clearing a path for the two teens to go through.

Finally, they made it inside the grand doors of the ballroom, and Bruce let out a sigh of relief.

Selina smirked. "If you think that was bad, you haven't seen anything yet," she told him.

He raised his brow. "It gets worse?" he asked.

She chuckled and took him by the hand. "Yup, but it'll still be fun. Come on," she said, dragging him away from the entrance and towards the main room.

They fell in stride and as soon as they arrived at the dance floor, Bruce knew this was going to be much harder than he'd originally thought.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared the couple down, followed by dozens of hushed whispers asking things like, 'Who is that?' 'Did you know Selina Wayne would be here?' 'Who is that boy?' and so on and so forth.

Bruce felt himself redden at the attention. He glanced over and saw that Selina seemed a bit pink as well, which made him feel a bit better at his own embarrassment.

Bruce took charge, leading her through the crowds and out onto the dance floor.

"This is probably poor timing, but do you know how to dance?" Selina asked him.

Bruce didn't respond. Instead, he took her left hand in his right, placed his left hand on her hip, and joined in with the already ongoing waltz.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Selina with a light smirk.

They danced for a few minutes, making light conversation while also scanning the room, looking for Bunderslaw.

After a while, Selina noticed Bruce had gone quiet. "What's up?" she asked.

Her words seemed to jar him from a deep train of thought. He shook his head. "Nothing, just thinking."

"About what?"

He shrugged in reply. She raised an eyebrow in challenge and he relented. "Why don't you hate me?" he asked.

She smiled. "I don't know. You've given me good reason to, but…"

He nodded. "Cat, I'm really sorry about that night…"

"I told you not to worry about it," she interrupted. "Like you said, you were trying to protect me, right?" He nodded again. "Then don't worry about it. Besides, even if I did hate you, I know you can't resist me," she said haughtily.

Bruce rolled his eyes and she laughed.

They danced some more. Bruce found it easier and easier to ignore the staring bystanders as he focused on his partner.

"But, seriously," he started, "I really am sorry."

She shook her head.

She knew people were watching, but she didn't care.

"Just shut up and kiss me," she told him.

His eyes went wide at her bluntness. "What?" he choked out, looking around the room at the many people who were intently watching the couple.

"Forget them," she started, taking the sides of his face in her hands, "and kiss me."

He stared deep into those piercing eyes. He could never decide if they were blue or green. But tonight, he simply didn't care.

Smirking lightly, Bruce brought his lips down onto hers in a sweet kiss, and she returned it. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than two seconds, but that was enough for them. Bruce ignored the shocked and delighted gasps of their onlookers and focused on the beautiful girl in front of him.

She waited to open her eyes until a few seconds after he'd pulled away, savoring the feeling. "Better?" she asked, trying to fight the beaming smile that was attempting to form on her lips.

He nodded, even though he blushing more so than any other time that evening. "Better," he answered.

Something across the room caught Selina's eye. "Good, because I just saw Bunderslaw."

Almost on cue, the waltz ended, and they released one another. Bruce bowed and Selina curtsied in return. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her across the room. He grabbed two cups of punch from a nearby table, handing one to Selina, and then proceeding towards where Bunderslaw was standing.

He saw them approaching, and dismissed the two men he'd been talking to quietly. He put on a smile, which Bruce was pretty sure was fake.

"Hi, I'm Selina Wayne," Selina introduced herself.

"Sid Bunderslaw," he responded, shaking her hand.

Bruce saw a waltzing couple approaching and saw an opportunity. He 'bumped' into one of them, and lurched forwards, spilling a good amount of his punch onto Bunderslaw's suit.

Selina immediately started profusely apologizing, and Bruce grabbed a cloth napkin from a nearby table, acting as though he was trying to wipe the liquid off of his jacket.

Bruce backed up, and Selina took over from there, taking all of Bunderslaw's attention as Bruce removed Bunderslaw's key ring from inside the cloth. He smirked at the trickery. As quickly as possible, he went through the keys one by one until he found key nearly identical to the one that Thomas Wayne had formerly owned, which Selina had shown him.

He detached it, and then resealed the ring, handing it slyly to Selina who had her hand behind her back. She reached down and 'picked up the keys' from the floor, handing them back to Bunderslaw and apologizing again.

He assured them it was no problem, and then marched off to get properly cleaned up.

The second he turned the corner, Selina asked, "Did you get it?"

Bruce nodded, patting the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Nothing to it," he told her with a cocky grin.

"Good. Now, how about one more dance?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? We finished the mission," he stated, trying to play dumb.

She shrugged. "You know, to safe face for my family. If I were to show up, dance to literally only three songs, and then leave, it would seem odd, wouldn't it?"

He smirked. "Alright, fair enough, but I'm going to grab a drink first. You want one?"

She shrugged and nodded, and he went off to make two more cups of punch.

"Hello, young man," a man greeted, approaching him at the beverage table. He was tall and had dark, slicked back hair. Bruce felt like he recognized him from somewhere. He was probably some big celebrity from the tabloids.

Bruce smiled and nodded. "Hi."

"I'm sorry, but you are Miss Selina Wayne's date, correct?" the man asked.

Bruce nodded in response. The question wasn't something he hadn't been prepared for, since some unknown teenage boy dancing with the owner of a multi-billion dollar corporation probably would probably raise inquiries to his identity.

"Tell me," the man started, placing a fatherly hand on Bruce's shoulder, "do you want Miss Wayne to die a horrific death?"

Bruce froze where he stood.

Chills ran down his spine at the man's words.

He was in shock.

Looking around, Bruce saw that hundreds of people were nearby, but he found himself unable to call for help.

In fact, his voice had seemed to stop working altogether.

Finally, Bruce was able to utter out, "Who are you?"

"I'm the servant of someone you've already met, Bruce," he answered coolly.

"What do you want with me?"

He had never been so terrified of another human in his life.

"That isn't your concern currently," the man lulled. "For now, I just want you to answer my question: Do you want Selina Wayne to die horrifically?"

Bruce shook his head in response.

The man smiled evilly. "Good. And would you be willing to do anything to save her from such a fate?"

Bruce nodded.

"Very well then," the man said. "Don't leave Gotham," he warned. "We'll be in touch shortly."

Bruce felt the weight of the man's hand lift from his shoulder, and when he looked back, the man had disappeared.

His breath started to quicken.

How could he have been so stupid to think that this was over?

How could he have involved Selina again?

Why was he so selfish?

What did those people want from him?

He looked back across the ballroom where he saw Selina standing awkwardly, waiting for him to join her for one last dance.

"Dammit," he muttered.

He threw away the two cups of punch, and, casting one last longing look back at Selina Wayne, turned on his heel and walked away from the crowd.

He found a backdoor and left the building, making a beeline for the nearest rooftop where he sat until dawn arrived, both questions as well as thoughts of self-loathing racing through his mind.

* * *

When the first song finished with no sign of Bruce, Selina started to get worried.

Maybe Bunderslaw had realized his key was missing, and then found him…

Selina shuddered at the thought, and started to walk faster.

She reached the beverage table and found it abandoned. However, Selina noticed an oddly shaped lump underneath the tablecloth. Suspicious, she reached underneath and removed a crumpled up cloth napkin with red stains.

It was the same one Bruce had used to steal the key from Bunderslaw.

She unwrapped it and found two things inside: Bunderslaw's key, and a short note in Bruce's handwriting.

It read:

 _Sorry I had to run, it was urgent._

 _Hope you find what you need._

 _Be careful._

 _-Bruce_

Selina read over the note several times, searching the words for some hidden reason behind his sudden disappearance.

She sighed sadly. That was Bruce Kyle for you, there one second and then gone the next.

Tucking the key, as well as the note, into her small purse, Selina walked out of the Gala and found Alfred parked outside.

"Ah, Miss Wayne…" he looked back in the rearview mirror and saw a couple light tears welling up in her eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded, wiping a stray tear away. "Yeah, Alfred, I'm fine." She wasn't just saying it, either. The tears weren't so much of sadness as they were of childish disappointment.

"If you don't mind me asking," he started hesitantly, choosing his words deliberately, "and not that I'm complaining, but where is Mr. Kyle?"

She looked out of the window where the beautiful Gotham skyline sprawled out in the distance. "No idea."

"So…he just left?" Alfred asked.

She nodded. "But don't worry, Alfred. He'll be back."

"And why is that?"

Selina smirked knowingly. "Because, he can't resist me," she answered.

"Ah, bloody hell," Alfred muttered.

"Language," she chided. Alfred chuckled and started the car.

She read over the note once more, and then stared out of the window, some tiny hope in her heart thinking that she might just catch a glimpse of the elusive Bruce Kyle flying across the rooftops of Gotham.

' _Be careful_ ,' he'd said.

She scoffed to herself.

Like hell.

 **A/N: Wow. Simply: Wow. I can't believe that this is the second to last chapter of Season 1. It feels like I just had the idea for this project yesterday! I** _ **really**_ **need to start working on the plot for Season 2… Also, I apologize for the longer than normal wait for this chapter (and probably the next one, as well), as, like I said in last chapter's Author Note, I really want to take my time and get these right. Besides, this is _easily_ the longest chapter of the series so far (just over 6000 words), so it took me a while longer than the others. **

**If you've enjoyed this series and/or have any suggestions/questions for Season 2, make sure to review! Thank you all for being so supportive of this series, and trust me: if you think this chapter was big, you ain't seen nothing yet! *Cue maniacal Jerome laughter* But seriously, thanks for reading!**

 **Also, this may be the first time in a couple chapters in which I didn't use the title in the story, lol**


	11. All Happy Families Are Alike

**All Happy Families Are Alike**

It was honestly shocking how fast hell was able to break loose in the Narrows.

When news had broken out that Maroni was finally making his move on Falcone, there had been mixed reactions.

However, most fell into two categories: those wanting to capitalize on the opportunity, and those who wanted to survive.

Bruce fell into the latter category.

Henry had turned the Gym into a fortress, and, along with Bruce and Ted, three other families had taken refuge in the safe house.

The police were so busy, either fighting in the war or trying to end it, that most in the Narrows were left to fend for themselves.

This wasn't a problem for the extended Grant-Kyle family.

Henry had bolted two large beams into place over the main entrance, which itself was made up of two, four inch thick steel doors, and Ted and Bruce had gone around covering the bottom floor's windows. The back door had been blocked off with a pair of vending machines, and the only exit left available was the trapdoor on the roof.

Bruce spent most of the first week up on the roof, watching over the streets as people either ran amuck or hid like their lives depended on it, the latter of which was probably accurate.

Halfway through the second week, Bruce borrowed one of Ted's switchblades and headed towards the Flea by rooftop.

Like he'd expected, the building had a red banner strewn across the front, which meant it was a territory dominated by Maroni.

Curiosity got the better of Bruce, and, tying a red bandana around his arm, he coolly sauntered on into the Flea.

He got some suspicious looks, but no one gave him any trouble. Most probably knew his reputation, and knew that they didn't want a fight. That, or they saw he was wearing red and figured he was one of them.

Bruce walked around for a bit, trying to find any of his friends that typically hung out there.

However, none of them were there.

He should've guessed this, after all, Floyd hated Jack and Maroni with a passion, Zinda had gotten caught and was temporarily upstate in some foster home, and Zee hadn't been in the Flea since Jack had threatened them in the concrete room.

However, there was someone he recognized.

Unfortunately, he would've preferred the other boy to not see him.

"Bruce Kyle!" Ben announced.

The room quieted down a bit and people started watching the two teens, waiting to see what would happen next.

Bruce nodded. "Sup, Turner?"

The older boy shrugged. "Nothing much, how 'bout you?" He grinned wickedly. "How's your old man doin'?"

Bruce shrugged in response. "Alright." He turned and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "Well, it was nice seein' you."

Two of Ben's goons stepped out in front of him, blocking his exit, and Bruce sighed inwardly.

He turned back to Ben and asked, "What?"

Ben grinned. "This may not be true, and I'm not one to gossip," he started, gaining the attention of most of the room, "but I heard a nasty little rumor about your old man."

"Oh yeah? And what rumor is that?" Bruce challenged, refusing to back down to the older boy's attempts at intimidation.

Ben started to slowly approach him. "Well, I heard that he'd boarded up the Gym, didn't take a side…"

Bruce nodded. "Yes."

"From what I know, Maroni's new policy is you're either with him, or you're against him," Ben told him. "And that bandana ain't fooling anyone."

Bruce put on a forced grin and responded, "Thanks for letting me know. I'll tell Henry."

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you call him Henry," Ben commented offhandedly.

Bruce tried to force himself to walk away. He honestly did. However, the words were already out of his mouth before he could think.

"What about it?" Bruce spat, irritation starting to flare up in his voice.

"Nothing, nothing. I just forgot that you don't have any parents," Ben replied, intentionally trying to provoke him. "Wasn't your mom a stripper or a prostitute or something? Maybe that's how she had you…"

Bruce clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to let words beat him.

"What happened to her anyways?" Ben continued. He turned his back to Bruce, speaking to the crowd of onlookers, "I heard that she just up and left you, probably saw what a worthless pile of…"

He never finished his sentence.

Bruce moved like lightning, simultaneously crashing into Ben, knocking him to the ground, and opening the switchblade at his throat.

"Say one more word," Bruce growled, rage boiling in his dark eyes. "I dare you."

"Now, now, Brucey. Play nice," a chilling voice lulled.

Bruce refused to look up as the slow footsteps approached. Bruce couldn't remember another time when the Flea was so quiet. In the near silence, the loud, clear footfalls rang out in the hanger.

The feet stopped a few feet away from where Bruce was pinning Ben to the ground.

Jack smiled down at him, asking, "Will you put the knife away, please?"

Although it was a question, Jack's demeanor made it clear that it wasn't up for debate.

Begrudgingly, Bruce closed the knife.

However, since he had Ben on the ground anyways, he figured he'd send a message.

Bruce punched him hard in the nose, earning a cry of pain from the older boy as he rolled on the floor, cradling his bleeding face.

Jack chuckled mirthlessly. "That wasn't very kind of you," he commented. "But, it was probably warranted." Jack turned to where Ben was sprawled out on the floor and he delivered a hard kick to his ribs. Bruce heard an audible crack, and Ben cried out in a mix of shock and agonizing pain. "Family is a touchy subject for many of us, after all," Jack said offhandedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He crouched down next to Ben and told him, "Next time you provoke someone, especially Bruce Kyle, don't turn your back, got it?"

Through his bloody hands and pained expression, Ben managed to gurgle out, "Got it."

Jack smiled. "Good. Now someone get him up, please," he announced. Two of Ben's lackies brought him onto his feet and helped him limp away, although he threw a dark glare at Bruce as he passed. Jack turned on Bruce and told him, "As for you, I'm glad you came around. I just wish Henry would do the same…" he trailed off, eyeing the red accessory on Bruce's sleeve.

Bruce, figuring there was nothing left to say, thanked Jack for the 'help' and turned to walk away again.

Unfortunately, he was stopped, again, by two of Jack's cronies. Jack told the crowd of onlookers to scram, and he then walked up to Bruce. He asked quietly, "How's Zee doing? I heard you two were on the outs, again."

Bruce nodded, refusing to respond.

"Have you heard from her recently?" Jack asked, a sinister humor apparent in his voice.

Bruce felt chills run down his neck. "No…why?" he asked, still looking away from Jack.

Jack shook his head. "Just curious…rumors and stuff."

"What rumors?" Bruce pressed.

Jack grinned darkly. He knew he had Bruce hooked. "You should go talk to her, make sure she hasn't done anything…stupid." He chuckled. "After all, the cops may be sucking right now, but all this will probably be over before you think and we wouldn't want her to come out on the wrong side, now would we?"

Bruce got the feeling that Jack was making a reference to something that only he knew about.

"Will do," Bruce forced out. Seeing no more reason to stay and talk to the lunatic, he quickly turned and marched past the two goons before they could block him again.

* * *

The second he was out of the damned place, Bruce ripped off the bandana and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. He scaled a building and then set off on rooftop to find Zee.

As he was running across the roof of an apartment complex, Bruce did a literal double-take.

At first glance, nothing was off in the streets of the Narrows. An ambulance was driving down a side-road, which had recently become a common sight.

Then, he took a second glance.

The ambulance in question was riddled with bullet holes, and the sirens weren't on.

Bruce knew he that should've walked in the opposite direction. He knew that following the ambulance would probably not end well. He knew that he'd decided to not meddle anymore…

But his curiosity got the better of him.

Bruce followed the ambulance, occasionally losing sight, but never for long.

Finally, it turned sharply into an empty warehouse on the waterfront, and the doors slid closed behind it.

Bruce scaled the side of the building and slipped in through a skylight.

Inside, the warehouse was mostly abandoned, other than the bullet-riddled ambulance and the five men standing near it.

Bruce's jaw legitimately dropped.

He recognized almost all of those faces.

Penguin, Falcone, Gilzean, Detective Gordon…and some pasty, scraggily dude in a trench coat and fedora.

This time, Bruce came to his senses. He _knew_ he had to leave right then and there.

But it was too late for that.

"Nobody knows about this place, right? Nobody," Bruce heard the fedora dude ask Falcone.

Falcone responded, "Nobody. Anybody who did is dead." He sighed sadly. "We'll be safe here."

A pair of deliberate, slow footfalls rang out in the hangar, and everyone else went still.

At first, Bruce had a momentary flashback to Jack's entrance from earlier.

Maybe this is what he was smiling about… He knew where Falcone was going to be and was going to kill him himself, probably bring his head to Maroni on a platter…

But these steps, although similar, seemed too light to be Jack's. Bruce sighed, certain that the new presence was not that of Jack Napier.

No.

It was much, much worse than that.

It took his brain a few moments to comprehend what he was seeing, and even then he didn't believe it.

His heart dropped.

A couple dozen feet below him stood Zee Zatara. Bruce didn't recognize her immediately, on account of her new short, jaunty hairstyle and her dark, gothic attire, but it was definitely her…

And she was holding an assault rifle.

"Hello," she lulled, with a nastiness that Bruce had never heard her use before. The five men stared blankly at the newcomer, confusion written clearly on their faces. "What's up?" she asked simply.

A sharp, grinding sound shrilled through the warehouse as one of the garage doors was lifted up. Once again, Bruce's jaw was on the floor.

For the month or two before the gang war had broken out, the supposed death of Fish Mooney had been a major topic of conversation among the people of the Narrows. However, there she stood, alive and well with a small mob backing her, which included Zee apparently.

 _Did Jack know? That son of a_ … Bruce took a deep breath. He'd skin that little bastard later, but for now, he needed to stay calm and collected.

"I know, I know," Fish said to the other party. "It's astonishing," she said with a victorious smirk. "Sometimes I astonish myself."

Penguin and Gilzean looked about ready to be sick, the fedora guy looked severely confused, Gordon stared at the new party unwavering in his sturdy expression, and Falcone just looked…sad.

Bruce thought it was weird, how such a feared, hardened mob boss could truly be so sorrowful on the inside.

"Tie them up," Fish said to her followers, "and Kelly, call Maroni."

Four of the five men were restrained, while the fifth, Gilzean, walked over to Fish and fell on his knees. Bruce couldn't make out what they were saying, not that he really cared. He was still in shock of seeing Zee in the state she was in. She walked around the four men and prodded Penguin with her gun, teasingly.

What the hell was she doing?

Eventually, Fish walked back and started talking to the four men, explaining how she'd made a deal with Maroni for Falcone's head. She momentarily went off on Penguin, and then told Gordon and Bullock that she'd keep their death's simple and clean. She asked the room if there were any questions…

The most chilling part of it all was Zee's next words.

"How you gonna kill them?" Zee passively asked with a complete lack of empathy in her voice.

Bruce felt pins and needles creep down his spine. Whatever had become of the girl he'd known was either gone, or buried too deep to see. Either way, she'd changed, and Bruce didn't like the result.

After a few minutes, the doors of the warehouse screeched open again, and in walked a small army led by Maroni. Among the group was Jack Napier. His pissed-off expression made Bruce chuckle. He was probably mad that he hadn't told Maroni about Fish earlier, and had ended up wasting an opportunity.

"So there he is," Fish announced with a sly grin.

Maroni approached her, a vicious smile permanently plastered on his face. "Fish, you mysterious, crazy, gorgeous killer, you…I love you," he said, taking her by the shoulders and wrapping her in an awkward embrace. Maroni let go of her, much to Fish's relief, and approached Falcone. "This…This is delicious. Finally. You're hard to kill, old man."

"No," Falcone responded flatly and calmly. "Your people are second-rate," he told the fellow Don, causing him to scoff.

"Miss Mooney, if I may, a brief word," Penguin interjected. "I know my life is forfeit. I speak not for my sake but yours." All eyes turned to the quivering man. "Because after all, I still love and respect you. Kill me if you must, but keep Falcone alive. As soon as he's dead, Maroni has no use for you. You are simply a threat. He will kill you!"

"No…" Maroni said.

Fish stalled momentarily, turning back to Penguin. "You think?" she asked.

Penguin saw his chance. "Why would he need another boss in town? Another rival?"

"That's where you're wrong, smart guy," Maroni told him. A, she's not a rival, because she's not a boss. She's an underboss."

Fish thought about this momentarily, then replied, "An underboss takes orders. I don't take orders."

Bruce noticed Zee starting to shift away from her position next to Fish.

He could feel it, too.

Something bad was about to go down.

"I know that," Maroni replied. "We're cool. Relax," he said with an arrogant, smug expression.

Fish raised her brow in challenge. "I'm relaxed," she told him.

"I don't think you are, babes," Maroni responded with a condescending look.

Fish physically cringed at his words. "Please don't call me 'babes'," she said with a passive-aggressive tone.

"You see? Not relaxed. Babes? Really? It's a term of endearment. It means I like you," he told her, patting her on the shoulder. She glared icily at him and he started to back up. "Fine," he relented. "I misspoke. You're not an underboss and you're not a babe. You tell me what you are."

Fish started slowly approaching him, saying, "What _we_ are, Sal…are partners."

"Whatever you want. Partners," Maroni agreed. "I'm Partner Number 1, and you're Partner Number 2. That's the deal, right?" he asked. "I'm number one, and you are…?"

Fish paused. "Number two," she responded, clearly not happy about the 'agreement' they'd reached.

"There you go," Maroni lulled. "Simple math. One, two, babes. Oops," he teased. "Sorry. That's the last time, I swear." He turned to his men and announced, "Guys, can you feel the buzz in the air? That's victory. Redemption. Power." He pointed at Falcone, "When this old man dies, a new day begins. We will rule Gotham. We're building a dynasty! We will _whip_ this town like a rented mule." He turned to Fish. "Right, babes?" he teased, earning a chuckle from his men. Fish's somewhat happy, victorious expression dropped and was replaced with that of annoyance. "All right, relax," Maroni told her. "I'm kidding you. Guys, no, seriously," he said to his men, turning his back to Mooney. It would be his fatal mistake. "Don't call her 'babes'," he told them. Or 'toots' or what have you. It's a woman's lib thing…"

He turned back, and the gun was already jammed in his face.

A gunshot rang out, and Maroni slumped to the ground.

Everyone froze, but Bruce's brain was on overdrive.

"I am relaxed," Fish uttered.

There were two seconds of tense, shocked silence before the gunfire started ringing out. Maroni and Mooney's people started shooting at each other.

The fight only lasted a few minutes, as Maroni's men had come to the meeting severely lacking in firearms. During this, Bruce watched over Zee, making sure that she was alright. For some reason, he felt like he needed to wait, like the whole ordeal wasn't finished yet.

Fish's gang won easily, suffering minor casualties when compared with Maroni's gang which was almost completely wiped out.

In the chaos, the four hostages had managed to get away, and Fish sent parties out after them.

Within five minutes, three of them had been caught and dragged back into the warehouse. Penguin was missing. Bruce scanned over the dead bodies on Maroni's side.

Unfortunately, Jack Napier's corpse was not among them.

Fish talked with the other party, saying how even though Falcone was dropping out of the fight for Gotham, she would have to kill him anyways. During this, Bruce noticed that Zee had wandered away from the main group and was now standing almost directly underneath his hiding spot. Whether it was by fate or just dumb luck, Bruce didn't know, but her moving underneath him may have saved her life.

Gunfire began ringing out again. This time, it was Penguin with a literal machine gun, mowing down anyone in sight.

Bruce's body moved before he could think, and he dropped from his hiding place.

He latched onto Zee's wrist and started sprinting towards an exit. Zee cried out in surprise, and stumbled at first, but eventually they fell into stride with Bruce.

He didn't stop running until they were two blocks away from the warehouse.

Finally, feeling that they were safe, he slowed down and Zee ripped her arm from his grasp.

"What the hell?" she yelled.

"You're crazy!" he responded.

"When…why were you there?" she demanded.

"Forget that. Why were _you_ there?" he shot back.

They stopped yelling, both breathing heavily from the running and then the sudden argument.

Bruce calmed down enough to speak normally. "Why were you there?" he asked.

She was still breathing heavily, but responded, "I joined up with Fish."

"Why?" he pressed.

"What's that to you?" she spat.

"I just wanted to know why you thought it was a good idea to commit suicide, is all," Bruce told her passive-aggressively.

She rolled her eyes. "Why were you there then? And don't you dare say it was because of me, cause we both know that's not true."

He looked at her like she was insane.

"Excuse me, I just dropped from the rafters of a building into a firefight just to save your crazy ass from getting shot by a mob boss," Bruce responded in a single breath.

"Oh, right," Zee responded icily. "Bruce Kyle always has to save the damsel in distress, right?"

Bruce looked at her, his face void of emotion. "What happened to you?" he asked, his voice audibly cracking at the end.

"I met you," Zee told him. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, regret flooded her eyes. He knew that she didn't really mean it, that she was just angry and scared, but it still hurt nonetheless. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just thought…maybe if I joined with Fish, I'd get a shot at Napier," she told him.

He shook his head. "Why…"

"I know that you hate him, Bruce, and I know that you'd do everything you could to stop him if he tried to hurt me, but…"

"I can't," Bruce finished for her. "I can't beat him," he stated, his voice starting to break. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the look of shame he was sure would appear on her face. "He's too good, too well protected…I can't beat him, and he tries to hurt you, Cat…"

Bruce hadn't realized he'd said something wrong until he heard her scoff.

He looked up at her in confusion. "What?"

"You called me Cat," she stated.

Horror spread across his face. "I'm sorry, I meant…"

"I know what you meant," Zee interrupted. She didn't look angry or hurt, just understanding, as if she was finally coming to terms with an inner struggle. "Bruce," she said, taking him by the shoulders. "You're an amazing guy, and I'll never stop…" She suddenly stopped her train of thought and took a started approach: "But you obviously don't feel the same. You know I can take care of myself. You've always known that. But you think that Selina can't, and you want to protect her. You're a protector, Bruce, and," she took a deep breath, "it's one of the things I love most about you." The shock in his face must've been evident. She laughed out loud and told him, "Yeah, Bruce. I love you. Or, I think I do. I'm not really sure if I get the concept, to be honest. But I want you to be happy. You deserve better than this," she said, gesturing around them at the grimy alleyway and smoggy twilight sky. She stared up at him, her dark eyes meeting his. She suddenly got up on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek, then whispered, "Go be happy, Bruce."

She turned and walked away.

A small part of Bruce wanted him to chase after her, but the majority voted against it.

After all, every word she had said had been true.

Bruce had always thought she could see right through him, and once again, she told him everything he'd been thinking.

* * *

He didn't know how he ended up in the theater district. His legs had taken him there on autopilot.

Speaking of which, where was _there_?

He had no idea where he was, other than that he was in an alleyway between two tall buildings. The twilight had turned to night earlier than usual, on account of the rain clouds which had been rolling in all day.

A few drops fell, and Bruce took shelter on a covered fire escape as the downpour began.

He imagined what he day would've been like had he just stayed at home like Henry had advised.

Approaching footsteps brought him out of his stupor. He didn't know how long he'd been in the alley, but it must've been quite some time, as the rain had disappeared and the moon was high in the sky.

Three sets of footsteps rounded the corner, a father, a mother, and…

Bruce froze.

It was him.

Granted, this version of himself was shorter, he looked a lot more innocent, and his hair was neater than anything the real Bruce had ever done with his. They looked happy, probably taking the alley as a shortcut to get to Downtown. Bruce recognized the parents, too. They were Thomas and Martha Wayne, the people Bruce had witnessed getting shot.

Another pair of heavier footsteps entered the alley as well, and Bruce's blood ran cold. He knew what was about to happen.

He wanted to cry out to the family, to tell them to turn and run, but his voice wouldn't work. He tried to rise from his hiding place and attack the man, throwing himself in harm's way, but he couldn't move.

He was frozen and had to simply sit and watch as the events unfolded.

Eventually, the man reached the family and removed a gun from his coat. He demanded their jewelry, money, anything of value. They did as he said, but Bruce knew what happened next.

Bruce felt a shift of movement above him. He looked up and saw a dark figure latched onto the alley wall. It didn't look quite human, nor was it an animal, so Bruce came to the only logical conclusion:

There was a demon above him.

It silently dropped down from its spot, falling over three stories onto the ground below and landing in a crouch. The gunman lurched back in shock and fear. He raised his pistol and fired two shots, but the bullets passed straight through the figure like nothing. He tried to run, but the figure broke apart into dozens of…bats? They swirled around him and raised him into the air before dropping him two stories to the ground.

There was a sick crunching sound of one of the man's legs breaking, and the figure reformed.

"No, no, please," the criminal begged and the figure slowly approached. "Don't kill me!" he pleaded.

"I won't kill you. I'll make you wish you were dead," the figure growled, before stomping on the man's broken leg.

He writhed around in pain, screaming bloody murder. Bruce watched on a mix of fear and…some other emotion that he couldn't place.

After a few seconds, the mugger passed out from the pain and the figure looked over his shoulder at the family.

"Get home safe," he told them. Then, like a flash, he was gone, leaving Bruce alone in the alley with the terrified family.

Bruce woke up with a start. A cold drop of rain had landed on his face and he wiped it off in annoyance. He thought back on the oddly vivid dream, and the image of the man in the cowl was permanently burned into his mind.

* * *

Selina felt that something was off in the manor that night. Her brow had a light layer of sweat covering it, and the study looked as though a tornado had passed through it. Where the fireplace had used to stand now was a dark entrance into an even darker passageway. It'd taken her the entire day, but she'd found it: her father's secret.

She and Alfred had arrived at a large steel door. She tried several different combinations and codes, but it was to no avail. She tried her name, her mother's name, and anything and everything she could think of. Alas the door still stood, appearing as impenetrable as ever.

As if was well past midnight, Alfred begged her to leave the study for the night, and, exhaustion overruling her curiosity, she finally complied and went to take a shower. Getting the dirt and grime off felt amazing, but she still felt that something was wrong.

Well, not 'wrong' exactly. She didn't sense danger.

No, more like something was…different.

Clad in a towel, she grabbed a glass of milk from the kitchen and returned to her bedroom. However, as she walked down the corridor, something felt different. As she arrived at her own bedroom doors, she felt a cold breeze graze the very bottoms of her bare feet. Turning around, she stared at the doorway opposite to her own. Those doors led to a spare bedroom which was usually inhabited…

On impulse, she walked towards the large doorway and took hold of the doorknob. It was unlocked. The lights were off, but there was still some light seeping in from somewhere.

That was strange, Alfred would have never left an empty bedroom's curtains open…

She cracked the door open as noiselessly as possible. After the day Selina had had, she thought nothing could surprise her anymore.

She was wrong.

Sprawled out on the huge bed in the middle of the room was the familiar profile of Bruce Kyle, fast asleep.

She audibly gasped. It'd been over a month since she'd last seen the boy, and he'd just up and disappeared on her. A part of her wanted to walk up to the boy, slap him across the face, and demand that he leave at once.

She didn't do that.

Selina slowly approached the bed, her footfalls nearly nonexistent on the soft carpet. She reached the side of the bed, and her hand moved on its own. She brushed a random lock of messy hair out of his face. She smiled to herself. He looked so calm and peaceful when he slept.

She remembered the times when she and Bruce had found themselves in the study or the library in the early hours of the morning, both shaken emotionally from their respective nightmares. They wouldn't speak; they didn't need to. When morning came neither would acknowledge that it even happened, and they'd go on as if it hadn't, but she'd never forget the comfort she felt sitting next to him, staring into the fireplace as the flames danced in their watery eyes.

He shifted slightly, bringing Selina back to her senses. She leaned forward and lightly kissed his forehead.

She could've sworn she saw him grin a bit, but she left anyways. She'd find out his reasons for being in the manor the following morning.

That night, neither Selina Wayne nor Bruce Kyle had a nightmare of the tragedies they'd both endured.

Unfortunately, the next morning, Bruce was gone. The bed had been made, the curtains closed, and the door was locked. She'd had Alfred open it, and when she entered, she felt her heart droop.

Maybe it had all been a dream?

No. There was still something off.

There was a note left on the nightstand. She took it and read:

 _Dear Cat,_

 _Sorry I had to leave again, but I didn't want to bother you._

 _I'm also sorry for leaving you at the party, but like I said before, it was urgent._

 _Below is my new phone number if you ever need me._

 _Be careful,_

 _-B_

 _PS. Thanks for the kiss last night_

Selina read the note a few more times, making sure she didn't miss anything. She carefully wrapped the note up and tucked it into her pocket. Turning on her heel, she marched past Alfred, giving him a quick, "Thanks," offering no explanation for why she needed into the room so badly.

She walked back into the study, took the small black remote they'd found the night prior, and clicked it.

Classical music began to blare through hidden speakers, and the fireplace began moving out of the way. It finally stopped and Selina took a few careful steps towards the entrance.

Down below, she heard a bat squeak.

* * *

Somewhere else in the city, a woman asked the man who'd threatened Bruce, "Ra's al Ghul, I beg your pardon, truly, but, do you think it wise? Showing the boy this much…isn't this the utter opposite of what you wanted when we switched the children all those years ago?"

He nodded. "This is true, but the boy intrigues me. The Demon's Head allows me to see into the future, and I can see that he will become the Dark Knight of Gotham, but that's all. I don't know what is going to happen next. However, I do know one thing: this is going to be enjoyable to watch." Another set of footsteps approached and Ra's greeted, "Ah, Mr. Galavan, old friend. Are you ready to begin?"

The tall man nodded. "Yes, Ra's al Ghul."

"And I suppose you've selected the vessel who will send the gas into Arkham?"

Galavan nodded again. "Yes, but I still do not fully understand how breaking a handful of insane…"

"Patience, my dear Theo," Ra's lulled, gazing out across the city known as Gotham. "Patience. This city must fall in order for the Dark Knight to rise." He chuckled. "And fall it will…"

 **A/N: Okay, so this is gonna be a pretty long author's note, so I'll try to put all the important stuff into the top two paragraphs.**

 **First off: I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG TO PUBLISH! I AM AN AWFUL HUMAN BEING! *inhales* Seriously though: I'm so sorry I made you all wait a full month in between updates (for reference, my longest break between updates prior was a week and two days…) I was just stalling to be honest. For some reason, I couldn't motivate myself to write it and I found myself getting caught up in anything else that I could.**

 **Secondly: Thank you so much for supporting this series! Y'all are the reason that I do this, and I would never have finished this without you all. So, from the bottom of my heart: thank you. I couldn't have done this without each and every one of you who reviewed or favorited or followed or just put up with my terrible descriptions.**

 **This story has been a journey for me, and I look forward to continuing it, but I'll probably take a month or two off of it before I start season 2. I've gotten invested in some other fandoms that I want to write pieces for, so those will probably be popping up here and there as well.**

 **Once again, I just want to say thank you to everyone who supported (and put up with) me through all of this. It honestly means the world that people are reading, and hopefully enjoying, what I put out.**

 **So, until next time, ciao for now!**

 **(And, as always, make sure to review!)**


	12. The Calm Between Storms

**A/N: So, it's been nearly three whole months since I posted anything on here. During that time I got heavily invested in some other stories, primarily My Hero Academia, so when I came back to Gotham it felt like I was seeing it all for the first time again. When I joined on the show originally, the first three seasons were already on Netflix and I watched the entirety of Season 2 in two days. So, after going through and watching the entire season over again, I have finally started sketching out an overarching outline for the season. I'm still working on that, so unfortunately this chapter won't be too plot-heavy. Instead, I wanted to dive into the loose ends of what Season 1 ended on, catching up with all the characters and letting you know what they've been up to since the rise of Penguin and Selina's discovery of the secret passage. So, with great joy I introduce you all to Season Two of Roles Reversed: Rise of the Villains.**

 **PS. For anyone interested I'm currently working on a MHA side project, but that won't be coming out on here for a very, very long time if ever.**

 **The Calm Between Storms**

Neither Selina nor Alfred knew who'd unlocked the steel door. The night before when, thanks to a helpful tip from Lucius Fox, they'd found the passage behind the fireplace, their progress had been stopped by a thick steel door with a key code. Then, the next morning, it was simply open.

Selina thought of Bruce for a moment, wondering if it'd been him who'd cracked the code. However, since Alfred didn't know that he'd been in the manor that night, Selina decided to keep the theory to herself.

They slowly crept down the dark passage. The air was thick and warm, as if it had been trapped for a very long time. Alfred took the lead, holding an apprehensive hand out in front of them. Finally, the stairs leveled out and they reached a cement floor. After a few minutes of fumbling around in the near darkness, Selina's hand caught a protrusion in the wall. She flicked the switch and blinding light seared into their eyes.

"The bloody hell is…" Alfred started.

Selina looked around the room. She recognized it. It was the same one from all those months ago, the one that she and Bruce had come across behind the steel door. Across the room was the wooden staircase that they'd walked down, and on another wall was the door that led out to the cave.

Alfred was in shock. "What is this?" he muttered, inspecting a bullet-proof vest on a nearby rack.

Selina shook her head. "Beats me," she lied. Well, technically it wasn't entirely a lie. She had no idea why there was a secret bunker underneath their manor or why there were multiple hidden staircases which led to it. Maybe there was more than one?

She walked over to the computers and plopped down into the rolling chair. A cloud of dust rose up. No one had sat there for a long, long time, probably since…

Selina tried to stop herself before the memory came back, but it was no use. The man's voice, the gunshots and the blood's splatter, the look of nothingness on her parents' faces: it was all clear as day to her.

Alfred placed a hand on her shoulder, jolting her back to reality. She reminded herself that that was in the past, that she'd moved on from that night.

Lying to herself didn't help, but it was worth a shot at the very least.

Alfred turned on the pc and the screen dimly lit up. The computer was newer looking than anything she'd seen before and yet, after several minutes of waiting, the only thing that came up was a blinking cursor.

Selina decided to try something. She typed _dir_ and a list of text popped up. The files had names that sounded like acronyms, such as I.H.R.P., W.E.P.I., JANUS, T.C.O.O... There were dozens of files on the computer.

She clicked on the one called IHRP, and it redirected her to a screen with a place to enter a password. She tried _SELINA_ , but to no avail. In fact, as soon as she hit enter the screen went black and the computer started making a weird noise. Alfred grabbed her and pulled her away from the console just as there was a small "poof" sound and a tiny bit of smoke began to emanate from the pc.

Alfred shook his head. "What in God's name was your father doin' down here?"

Selina stood there, unresponsive.

Alfred looked around the room again, a bit more fear in his eyes than before. "Come on, Miss Wayne. We shouldn't be in here."

"What?" Selina asked, defiance sparking up in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Alfred started exasperatedly, "this place is dangerous."

"Really? The computer bugged out and that's enough for you?" Selina challenged, implying that that was what scared him.

"Look around you, Miss Wayne," Alfred bit back. "A freezer full of blood." He pointed at the rack, "A bullet proof vest with two _slugs_ in it! Whatever your father was doing down here probably got him…" Alfred didn't finish the statement. His angry expression melted away and was replaced with one of worry and concern. "And I'll be damned if I see you suffer the same fate…"

His voice broke towards the end. Selina bit back a response and nodded, saying, "Okay, Alfred." She paused. "I won't investigate this stuff on my own. You're going to help me," she stated, making it clear that it was a decision and not a suggestion. "Or I'll keep without you, probably with Bruce…" she trailed off.

Alfred shook his head in exasperation. "I worry that you hang out with that Kyle boy too much, you're starting to sound just like him." Selina smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Fine then, but you do what I say when I say it, understand?" Selina nodded. "This is on _my_ terms," Alfred added.

"Fine by me," Selina responded all too quickly.

Alfred smirked. "Good. Condition number one: you're going back to school."

Selina's victorious smile faded quickly. "School?" she asked, hoping she'd simply misheard him.

"School," Alfred confirmed. "Condition number two…"

* * *

Bruce dropped down from scaffold to scaffold, eventually arriving at the floor of the Flea. He greeted some of his friends with a light grin as they bustled about, shopping or talking with fellow street kids. He made his way up the stairs and towards the back where the runner of the Flea worked.

"Hey there, Samson," Bruce greeted.

The large black man looked up from some paperwork and beamed. "Is that Bruce Kyle I see?"

Bruce grinned back. Since Maroni and Falcone and Fish had been taken down, Penguin had established an empire that spanned almost the entire city. Naturally, Bruce fell in line with the rest of Gotham's scum, watching for opportunities to move up in the world. So, when Jack Napier's name came up as one of Penguin's most wanted fugitives, Bruce struck. Unfortunately, Jack's body hadn't been found after the big fight, meaning he'd probably gotten away and was hiding somewhere in Gotham or a nearby city. Bruce had came forward and gave all the information he had on not only Jack, but also several other of Falcone and Maroni's top lieutenants who'd survived the fight.

Samson gestured to a nearby shelf and told Bruce, "Penguin's money is right over there. It's the duffel."

Bruce took the bag and opened it. He counted thirty or forty stacks roughly and nodded. "It all seems here." He cracked a grin and took out three of the stacks, placing them back on Samson's desk.

Samson looked up in confusion. He started to protest but Bruce cut him off saying, "Relax, big guy. Penguin cut taxes by ten percent today for his original underbosses, like you and Gabe."

Samson grinned. "Man," he muttered, "this is the good life."

"Don't get too comfortable," Bruce warned jokingly. "This is Gotham after all."

Samson chuckled. "Give Penguin my regards."

Bruce nodded. "Will do," he said before zipping the duffel bag back up and throwing it over his shoulder.

Since Penguin had taken over, he'd allowed the underbosses to do business as they saw fit, and the Narrows had prospered. Bruce had been promoted to one of Penguin's official errand-runners. Granted, it didn't sound too glamorous, but for a thief it was the best job anyone could ask for. As he went around collecting taxes and running errands, he made relationships with underbosses and other people high above his pay grade. Along with that, he heard everything that went on, and in Gotham information was money.

Bruce was about to ascend the scaffolding again when a familiar voice called his name.

He turned back and grinned. "Hey Floyd," he greeted.

Floyd shook his head. "Damn, Bruce," he muttered. "You're moving up in the world ain't you?"

Bruce shrugged. "If you call being Penguin's lapdog a promotion, then sure, I guess."

Floyd nodded to the bag. "How much you got there?"

"More than you'll ever see in your life," Bruce retorted with a smirk.

Floyd grinned mischievously. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Floyd shrugged. "Nothing, just that I got a job coming up that may or may not interest you…"

Bruce sighed. "Alright Floyd, I'll bite. What kinda job?"

"Three words," Floyd started, holding up a closed hand and raising a finger with each word, "Children's. Hospital. Fundraiser."

Bruce pondered this for a moment. "Who's gonna be there?" he asked.

"Bunch of old, rich geezers who won't notice if they misplace a couple hundred bucks," Floyd responded.

"When?" Bruce asked, becoming more and more interested as the conversation went on.

"Couple of weeks," Floyd responded. "Do you need a suit?"

Bruce shook his head. "Nah, I got a ton of those."

Floyd smiled. "I told you you'd be interested."

"Shut up," Bruce scorned. "Aren't you supposed to be working or something?"

Floyd shrugged. "Yeah, but I got a feeling that Samson won't notice. He's probably too busy smelling all the money he just saved."

Bruce scoffed. "Probably. Let me know when the job is and I'll be there."

"Bruce Kyle and Floyd Lawton back at it again!" Floyd exclaimed, drawing a few judgmental looks from passersby. Bruce rolled his eyes, throwing one last goodbye over his shoulder as he left the Flea.

* * *

He dropped the bag off at Penguin's place before heading out for his last job of the day.

He wasn't dreading it exactly, but he wasn't looking forward to it either. He was just hesitant.

The walk to the restaurant was only a couple of minutes from Penguin's headquarters, but it felt like an eternity to Bruce. He was caught between wanting to get it over with and wanting to push it off as long as possible. Unfortunately, his feet took him to the correct destination and he entered Ma Marea's Authentic Italian Restaurant. The owner, Marea or simply 'Ma', had originally been a Maroni loyalist until her eldest son randomly went missing for a couple of weeks. She eventually fell in line with the rest of Gotham, and her son miraculously returned, although missing a couple of fingernails.

Bruce kept his eyes on the ground as he entered. He was certain that she'd seen him, but he acted as though he didn't know she was there. He felt her eyes bore into him but he kept walking. Finally, he reached the back room and there sat Marea. She smiled and stood to hug and kiss him.

"Young Mr. Kyle, how are you?" she asked in a thick-Italian accent.

"I'm doin' good, Ma," he responded. "How 'bout you? How's the restaurant?"

She shrugged. "We've had better weeks…" she trailed off.

He dropped his gaze to his feet. "Well, I still gotta do my job so…"

Ma nodded. She handed him a duffel bag full of money, which he combed through lightly before nodding. He removed three stacks and handed them back to her, saying that taxes had been cut. He just wanted the conversation to be over with so he could leave.

She hugged and kissed him again and he left out the back door, wanting to avoid going back through the restaurant at all costs.

He turned the corner into the back alley and froze.

' _Shit_ ,' he thought. He grinned weakly and said, "Hey Zatanna."

She stood across from him, still in her waitress attire. "Hey Kyle," she responded. "What're you doing here?" she asked, her voice void of emotion.

He held up the duffel bag. "Just collecting taxes," he said shortly.

"For Penguin?" He nodded. "Wow…moving up in the world, are we?"

Bruce shrugged. "I just got lucky. Penguin wanted information on Jack and I had it."

She looked him up and down, probably searching for injuries. Finally she asked, "How's Cat doing?"

Bruce shook his head. "Don't know. I haven't seen her in a while," he replied.

She nodded. "Right. Well, I'll see you around I guess," she said, turning on her heel and going back into the restaurant. The door slammed behind her.

"Well that went well," he muttered. They hadn't left on the best of terms after the Gang War, but it hadn't as bad as it was now. After the fight, they'd simply gone separate directions, him to Penguin and her to Marea.

Bruce decided to shrug it off, finish his job, and then go home and forget about it. He was mostly successful at doing so, except for one key thing Zee had asked.

How _was_ Selina doing?

He hadn't checked in with her in weeks, not since the end of the gang war. Even then he hadn't said a word to her, opting to leave a note instead and be out before her or Alfred were awake.

That night he tossed and turned like normal, but instead of fearing what he'd see in his dreams, he feared the reaction of a certain green-eyed girl if she to find out he was Penguin's lapdog. She knew he was a criminal, but being a psychopath's lackey was a new low, even for him.

He cracked open his window. Fall was arriving, evident by the cooling temperatures. The trees of the countryside would be changing soon. Maybe he'd visit Wayne manor to go see them some time?

It was ironic how both teenagers were wishing they were anywhere else than where they were. One wanted a life of comfort and security while the other simply wanted something to do, an adventure.

They had no idea how, in just a few weeks, they'd be longing for their old lives back.

 **A/N: Here we go again! Sorry for the shorter chapter but, like I said earlier, this is more of an introduction to Season 2 than a full-fledged chapter. This was more of a dusting-off-the-cobwebs project than anything else for me. It'll be a while before I post the next one since I refuse to begin until I have the whole plot fleshed out. Thanks for reading and make sure to favorite/follow so you don't miss the next chapter, and while you're at it you may as well review ;)**

 **Ciao for now!**

 **Oh, and the day that I wrote this just happened to be the day that the recap/trailer for Gotham Season 5 came out. I gotta say: I'm pumped. Anyway, it's not that important, I just thought it was ironic that the same day I returned to Gotham, the show released something like that.**


	13. Damned If You Do

**A/N: Okay, so I'd like to point out that the time jump between Seasons 1 and 2 sent me for a huge loop when trying to write the alternate plot. Basically, I thought that there was a month between when the gang war ended and when Penguin was visited by Jim, and I also thought that Bruce blew up the door in the secret passage the day after he and Alfred first found it… Then I rewatched the first episode and I felt like an idiot. I really hope that writing the previous chapter prior to me figuring this out doesn't mess up the rest of the timeline…but anyways, here's Chapter 13! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Damned If You Do…**

Bruce leaned back in one of Penguin's comfier chairs, listening in on him giving orders to a few hitmen under his regime. The kingpin finished off the meeting by telling them that "If you come back without his head in a box, I'll cut off your fingers and make you eat them." The men left quite quickly after that, and Penguin slumped down into his throne, sulking.

Gilzean, who'd previously been going through debts that people owed, continued where he'd left off. "Odgen Barker, in for 70 grand plus two months' vig, 250 and change. Says he owes Falcone, Falcone's gone, so his debt's forfeit."

Penguin smiled mirthlessly, telling Gilzean, "Well, we can't have him saying that." He turned to Tommy Bones who was seated across from Gilzean, asking him, "What if everybody started saying that? There'd be anarchy." He looked across the table at Bruce and told him, "A lesson you should learn: never allow debts to go uncollected, because if someone is unfaithful once, they're prime to be unfaithful again. Isn't that right, Butch?" Penguin added pointedly.

Gilzean nodded shamefully, keeping his eyes on the table. Another man entered the room and whispered something into Penguin's ear.

Penguin chuckled. "Oh, splendid," he said, shooing the man off. He stood from his throne and greeted, "Jim, come on in." The alarm in the back of Bruce's head went off and his body tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Jim Gordon walked into Penguin's Headquarters, a grim mask on his face. Penguin, however, either didn't notice or simply didn't care, walking right up to the cop and shaking his hand firmly. "My dear old friend," Penguin said.

"We need to talk," Gordon growled.

Penguin gave him an odd look before turning to the rest of the room and commanding, "Leave us."

Gilzean, Bones, Zsasz, and the muscle left the room. Bruce however, too interested in what was about to go down to leave, stayed put.

Gordon finally addressed him, saying, "Hey, Bruce. Moving on up, huh?"

"Trying," Bruce replied shortly.

Penguin smiled, saying, "Isn't he darling? The youth really spices up the place, huh, Jim?"

Bruce flashed Penguin a smirk.

"I need a favor," Jim finally said. "I figure you owe me one."

Penguin chuckled. "I do? I'm always happy to help you, Jim, but I-I don't recall…"

"The hospital," Jim interrupted. "I saved you from Maroni's men."

"But I was only there because you arrested me," Penguin responded.

"For attempted murder," Jim retorted with a smirk. "Remind me again why I let you go."

"Enlightened friendship," Penguin answered. "I'd call us even, but let's not quibble. I'm so happy you came to me for help, Jim. The answer is yes. Your wish is granted."

Jim suddenly looked very confused. "You don't know what it is yet."

Penguin sat back in his chair, a small smirk forming on his upper lip. "You want Loeb fired and your old job back, no?"

Gordon's jaw clenched. "Yes," he responded through gritted teeth.

Penguin nodded. "For a good friend like you, it can be done. If you're sure that's what you want."

"I'm sure," Gordon told him.

"May I ask why? Police work in Gotham is such a thankless job," Penguin said.

"Good pension," Gordon answered.

"What does Lee think?" Penguin asked. Bruce's brow shot up. That was a low blow in a game where Penguin had all but dominated.

"Who?" Gordon asked, playing dumb. Penguin looked down at him admonishingly and Jim folded, asking, "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Relax," Penguin told him. "I already said I would help." Penguin turned to Bruce, chuckling and saying, "He is so brusque, isn't he?" He turned back to Gordon, who'd stood up and began to walk away, adding, "Thank you." Suddenly, he slammed his hand down on the table and stood, startling the whole room. Bruce shot to his feet and took a few steps backwards and Gordon froze in place. "While I think on it, perhaps there's a small favor you could do for me in return. I know how you hate to owe favors." Penguin licked his chops, knowing he had Gordon hooked. "I am having a small business dispute with a friend of mine, Odgen Barker. You have a persuasive personality. Perhaps you can talk to him?"

Gordon approached Penguin, no fear in his cold, hard eyes. "You want me to collect a debt for you?" he asked.

"I want you to prove to me that our friendship is a real one. Based on trust and equity," Penguin told the cop.

"That's fair," Gordon responded. He paused. "No," he finally answered. "Sorry. Can't help you. Congratulations on all your success." He turned back to Bruce and told him, "Be good, Bruce."

Bruce smirked up at him, shortly responding, "Always."

Gordon began to walk away and Penguin called after him, "Don't say no now, Jim. Sleep on it!" he added as the door slammed.

Penguin hummed under his breath and asked Bruce, "Do you think that went well?"

Bruce shrugged. "I think getting Gordon to do what you want isn't an easy task, but…"

"But?" Penguin asked, interested in the boy's take on things.

"Gordon's the kind of guy who'll do anything if he thinks that it'll turn out right in the end." Bruce scoffed. "Even if it means doing something bad to do good."

Penguin raised his glass of wine and toasted, "To good men."

"Here here," Bruce lulled sarcastically before turning and walking out of Penguin's presence. He certainly hadn't expected to see that when he'd woken up this morning: Gordon going to Penguin of all people for help?

Bruce swallowed the burning sensation rising in his throat. He didn't want to think about that morning. The best thing he could do was keep his mind occupied with anything other than the recurring dreams he'd been having, especially the recent ones.

* * *

Selina hastily straightened up the tables and chairs which had been pushed aside while exploring the secret room below the manor. Just as she finished, Alfred reentered the room, Jim Gordon in tow. Alfred was just apologizing for not answering the door sooner, tossing a rag to Selina to clean herself up.

Jim noticed this and pointed out, "You two are dirty. What've you been doing?"

"Cleaning the basement," Selina replied coolly. "I imagine you have something important to say?"

"Yes," Jim replied. "I've been fired from the GCPD. I won't be able to keep the promise I made to you. I wanted to apologize."

Selina nodded. "Your apology is accepted, of course, but you didn't need to walk here. A phone call would've been fine."

Alfred asked him if there was any chance for reinstatement, to which he replied, "No. Well, there is a way, but it's too ugly." Selina nodded for him to continue, and he elaborated that he would have to collect a debt for Penguin.

Selina nodded. "But you can't do that, because he's a bad man. The task would be demeaning."

"Well, yes," Jim responded.

"You were going to find my parents' killers, Selina told him, beginning to pace around the room. "You were going to fight for justice. You were going to clean up the GCPD," Selina paused, "Change Gotham."

Jim nodded. "I had hoped to do that."

Selina shrugged. "If you remain at the GCPD, you might still be able to do all of those things. But first, you have to do something ugly. And your personal honor forbids that."

"Yes," Jim replied, suddenly uncomfortable under the girl's piercing gaze.

"Are you not sacrificing the greater good for the sake of your dignity and self-esteem?" Selina paused again, carefully thinking out her next few words. "For vanity?"

"Steady on, Miss Wayne," Alfred admonished. "Manners."

"Alfred, he walked all the way here to discuss the issue. I'm just raising a question," Selina responded. "Surely, sometimes the right way is also the ugly way."

Her stinging words sent the room into an awkward silence. "Sometimes a man can't take the right way," Alfred told her. "He is dealing with all kinds of business you can't possibly understand yet because you're still a child."

Selina nodded. "Yes, Alfred, there is still a lot I don't understand yet." She turned to Gordon and said, "Please forgive me if I've offended you, Jim."

Gordon shook his head, saying, "No, no. That's okay." He started to leave, but turned and told Selina, "Be good."

Selina nodded. "Always."

Gordon scoffed. "Funny, Bruce Kyle said the exact thing to me just this morning."

"You saw Bruce?" Selina asked. It'd been a month since she'd seen him… Damn, had it really been that long?

Gordon nodded. "He works for Penguin, as does the rest of Gotham nowadays."

Selina felt a twinge of some emotion when she heard that. "Do you know how he's doing?"

Gordon shrugged. "I don't really know. You should talk to him if you get the chance. Getting into bed with Penguin is what got me here in the first place, after all."

Selina nodded and Gordon left, escorted by her butler. Maybe she'd call the number that he'd left her a month prior. She still had the note in her nightstand drawer.

That night, she laid in bed deep into the early hours of the morning, dreading the following day. She'd finally have go back to school after a year away. She hadn't liked homeschooling, but at least it was easy enough to get out of. Now she'd be locked in a classroom with other people for eight hours a day.

She sighed. Suddenly, she felt very jealous of Bruce Kyle, running across the rooftops of Gotham all free and independent-like. Meanwhile, she'd have to sit in classrooms and wear a skirt.

A plaid skirt.

She practically shuddered at the thought. Unfortunately, the morning arrived and she got dressed for her first day at Anders Preparatory Academy.

* * *

Bruce sprinted from his bedroom to the bathroom down the hall, drenched in sweat and holding his mouth shut with both hands. Not bothering to turn on the light, he keeled over the toilet and hurled into it.

That damn dream just wouldn't leave him alone and it was only getting worse. For weeks, every night he'd see the alleyway but what would happen varied night to night. Sometimes he'd see the real thing go down, other times he'd be the child and Thomas and Martha Wayne would be killed, other times a shadowy figure would descend from nowhere and protect the family, and others no one would show up and all three Waynes would die. However, this one was different. This time, he'd been the figure. He didn't see his face, since the figure always wore a cowl, but he knew it was him under the mask. The attacker had shot him while he protected the Waynes.

Bruce winced, a sharp, burning sensation emanating from where the bullet had hit him in the dream.

A light knock on the door alerted him to another presence. He looked up and saw Ted standing there with a cold washcloth in hand. He placed it around Bruce's neck and asked, "Dream again?"

Bruce nodded. Ted was the only one who knew why he kept having the stomach fits. Bruce had told him about the alleyway, and other than the Waynes and the GCPD, he was the only one who knew that he'd witnessed the crime go down. Ted probably assumed that it was just PTSD, which it probably was in part. However, Bruce knew it went a lot deeper than that.

It was three forty-five in the morning, too late for him to go back to sleep but too early for him to be awake. Bruce settled for lying on the couch, watching the news until it was societally acceptable to be out and about. Apparently there'd been a big breakout at Arkham just that afternoon. They'd already found two of the bodies of escaped inmates, Richard Sionis and Jerome Valeska. The television started to go off on what the two men had done to be sentenced to Arkham, and Bruce, getting bored, flipped the channel to the local sports network. Who gave a damn about what a few crazy's had done to get thrown into that hell hole?

* * *

Selina walked up to Anders Prep with her eyes set far ahead of her, ignoring the stares of her former classmates. Whispers broke out in the cliques as she passed, but she just kept walking with her head held high, like the whole place was beneath her.

Finally, she found her first classroom and settled into an empty desk in the back corner. Throwing in two headphones, she rested her forehead on her arms and closed her eyes for a few minutes. Her head was throbbing from getting practically no sleep and all she wanted to do was be done here and call Bruce. Maybe they could go grab a bite to eat or something fun like that? He'd probably insist to pay…

Someone tapped on her elbow and Selina looked up. The classroom was about half filled, and the majority of the students were sending odd looks back at her. The person who'd tapped on her elbow, a brown haired boy with an obnoxiously large nose, asked, "Selina Wayne right?"

Selina recognized that voice immediately. Thomas Elliot, one of the biggest douches in school. Of course she'd have to have home room with him.

"Hey Elliot," Selina replied coolly, taking out one earbud and twirling the other one around her finger.

"So, your mom and dad got killed, huh?" he asked with a sick fascination in his voice.

The room became very quiet all of a sudden. Selina had prepared for kids like this, so she wasn't fazed. She simply nodded.

"Did you see the whole thing?" he pushed. "The blood and everything?"

Selina's jaw clenched. "Yes," she responded darkly, refusing to let this arrogant brat get the better of her.

He held his hands up in surrender and said, "I'm just interested. I've never seen a real dead body." He placed both of his hands on her desk and continued, "Were there guts?"

Selina snapped. In a single motion she grabbed his left wrist, twisted him around, and slammed him face down onto the desk, pinning him as he let out a pathetic whimper. The only sounds in the room were made by the boy whose arm was about to snap and the ticking of the wall clock. Selina lowered her voice and whispered, "If you ever talk to me again, I'll make you wish that the son of a bitch who killed my parents had killed me too, understand?"

He let out a whimper of a yes, and she released him from the hold, calmly sitting back down and placing her earbuds back in.

No one said another word to her again until PE. There, a taller girl approached her and said, "Hi, I'm Tammy."

"Selina," she replied, hoping the conversation would end there.

It didn't.

Tammy continued, "We saw what happened back in homeroom and just wanted to thank you. Thomas Elliot is a dick."

"No kidding," Selina agreed with a smirk, gaining a bit of respect for the girl at her use of a cuss word. Maybe they all weren't stuck-up, rich snobs after all? "Believe me, it was my pleasure."

The other girl nodded. "Well, thanks anyways," she said before re-joining her friend group.

Selina chuckled to herself. She had definitely made an impression to say the least.

They were doing gymnastics in PE. Selina watched from the side as the other girls approached the balance beam, typically only making it a couple steps before losing their balance and jumping off. Tammy, however, made it across, along with a few of her friends. Their coach, a forty year old woman who was trying to look twenty, told Selina to go next.

She huffed and stepped forwards. She leapt from the ground onto the beam, finding her center of gravity in a crouch, and then straightening out. She took a few steps forwards with her arms out, and then dropped them, finishing the rest of the walk in a casual stroll. She dropped off the other end and turned around to see most of the other girls with their jaws on the floor. Tammy and her friends smiled at her and waved her over.

Tammy told her, "That was so good! Do you do gymnastics?" Selina shook her head and Tammy continued, "Well you should! We actually have a team here at school. You should join!"

Selina held up her hands and said, "That was probably just luck. It's really not that hard. Just tighten your core and don't look down and you'll be fine."

"Who taught you that?" one of Tammy's friends asked. She was even shorter than Selina.

"A guy I know," Selina replied nonchalantly.

"Does he go here?" the short girl asked.

Selina scoffed. "Not exactly. He's actually from the Narrows."

The girls collectively gasped. "The Narrows!" one of them exclaimed. "Isn't that the bad part of town?"

Selina shrugged. "It really isn't that bad…"

She was soon swarmed with questions about herself, ranging from how she met said boy and about her stories from the Narrows to if the boy in question was her boyfriend, which she apparently blushed at. Finally, the swarm ended when the gym coach approached the group and encouraged them to keep doing the balance beam.

She didn't know how it happened, but by the end of her first day Selina had been adopted into a friend group and been pressured into trying out for the gymnastics team.

The team was mostly made up of girls, but there were a couple of guys there too. Selina recognized most of the people, but one of the boys was noticeably new. Or at least, he was noticeably noticeable.

He had short, cropped blonde hair and grey eyes, and he was wearing a skintight leotard with gym shorts which hid none of his upper body.

Yeah, he was cute. Selina hadn't noticed him until the other girls had pointed him out, saying that he had enrolled only a few days prior to her.

The coach of the gymnastics team, a young woman who was actually around twenty, had Selina do a few different things to gauge her experience. She aced the balance beam and the parallel bars, but she landed on her butt when she tried to do a handspring on the tumbling mat.

Finally, the coach brought her out in front of the team and had her introduce herself. Most of them already knew her from years prior at Anders, but the blonde boy seemed extremely interested and listened intently to every word she said.

When she was done, the coach told them to go off into their groups. She told Selina to go over to the parallel bars with two of the boys and three of the girls.

The blonde boy was one of them. She started on the parallel bars, trying to copy what one of the girls had done but failing quite quickly. The boy approached her and said that she should probably just try and switch between bars first.

By the end of practice, she wasn't awful at the parallel bars and she'd impressed everyone with her skill at the balance beam, throwing in a cartwheel at the end just to show off. She walked out of school with the group of girls, but a voice called out after Tammy so they stopped. The four boys on the team caught up with them and started to introduce themselves. The first three boys were Ricky, Dicky, and Rafael, the contrast of which made her laugh out loud. The fourth boy, the blonde one who'd helped her out earlier, introduced himself, saying, "Hi, I'm Sterling St. Cloud."

She smiled. "I'm Selina Wayne," she replied.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know, you kind of introduced yourself already…"

The group chuckled and walked out together, Tammy, Ricky, and Dicky dominating the conversation.

For the first time in a long time, Selina finally felt accepted by someone other than Alfred, Zee, or Bruce. Suddenly, school didn't seem so scary after all.

Bruce got a call that night from Floyd, spelling out exactly what they were going to do the night of the Gala. He started to feel butterflies in his stomach, but it wasn't that he was scared. He finally had a mission that didn't involve being Penguin's errand boy. No, he wasn't scared, he was excited.

Both teens ended their respective days in much better places than they'd began, a welcomed commodity, especially when considering the dark turn that their lives were about to take.

 **A/N: Sorry for such a long chapter with little to no action, but I wanted to establish the themes and tones that the front half of Season 2 would be taking. Speaking of Season 2, as I was writing out the plot, I realized that there were _a lot_ more BrucexSelina arcs than in Season 1. So, either the chapters are gonna get a lot longer, or there're gonna be a lot more chapters in Season 2 than Season 1, which is terrifying since I'm estimating that there're only about three to four more months left until Season 5 starts coming out and I'd like to be done with Season 3 by then…but I guess I can't complain since the reason I'm stressed is because I took a three month break, so…**

 **I'd also like to thank everyone who helped and supported me through my decision between Roles Reversed and Whenever You Need Me. I'm planning on finishing Roles Reversed all the way, but I am also currently sketching out a plot line for a series based on Whenever You Need Me, which will go by a different name. It won't be coming out for a long, long time, so I'll let y'all know when I start to publish chapters so you don't miss it.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed and if you did, make sure to leave a review as your feedback is what pushes me to keep on writing. Ciao for now!**

 **And one last thing: for those who have been requesting a story after 4x19/14/21/etc. where Selina and Bruce aren't interrupted and end up in a risqué situation, check out GothamFan78. I don't personally write Rated M content, but he does so check him out if that's what you're looking for. However, if those kinds of stories aren't what you're looking for, to put it simply: don't.**


	14. Encounters

**A/N: So…Gotham Season 5 is coming out in January…There's no way in hell I'm finishing Seasons 2 and 3 by then. Anyway, I'm super excited for that so I'll be talking a lot more at the bottom. For the time being: I've been anticipating this chapter since I first started this series so I'll just shut up and let you read. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Encounters**

Selina stared aimlessly out of the limousine window at the approaching Gotham skyline. She could feel the chaotic city buzz in the air, something she truly missed living in the suburbs. Car horns were blaring, the stench was near unbearable, a steady drizzle was falling, and steam rose from the hot pavement making it near-impossible to see more than a few feet…

Home sweet home.

When Alfred had agreed to help her investigate her father's company, one of his conditions was that she would have to resume normal billionaire activities, which included going to boring galas and charity events. She usually dreaded the events. However, the gala she was attending this time was something she personally felt was a good cause, so she didn't mind too much.

Besides, the dresses she got to wear were cute.

Selina mentally scolded herself. She was starting to sound like her school friends.

The limousine pulled up as close to the building as possible, and, luckily, the rain had slowed down a bit. Even so, Alfred insisted on walking her into the gala under the umbrella, leaving himself wholly exposed to the elements.

Inside, a peppy jazz tune was being played in the background as people in fancy dresses and suits mingled about, talking about how much they'd donated or what new car they were going to buy for their nephew. Selina shook her head. She was rich, too, but at least she wasn't obnoxious about it. A couple of reporters and camera crews were stationed throughout the hall, trying to track down the more famous of Gotham's elite for interviews. Selina looked right past them, acting as though they didn't exist.

She started thinking about the thousand other things she'd rather be doing. "This is a waste of time," she told Alfred who was still drying himself off with a small handkerchief.

"We had a deal, didn't we, Miss Wayne?" he responded sternly. "Part of which was you resuming a normal lifestyle."

Selina scoffed and muttered, "Right, normal…"

Alfred ignored her comment and continued, "Your parents were both patrons to the Children's Hospital, therefore it makes you a patron." They arrived at the main hall and Selina sighed. "Besides," Alfred said with a light grin, "there's gonna be a magician. And you like magicians, don't you?"

Selina raised an eyebrow and responded, "No I don't…I hate magicians."

Alfred turned to her and stated, "You know what I said about being normal?"

"Excuse me," a familiar feminine voice said from behind them.

Selina turned and saw Dr. Thompkins standing there, looking stunning in a sleek, black ball gown. Selina acted on impulse and threw her arms around the woman's waist, exclaiming, "Lee!"

Thompkins laughed and returned the hug, saying, "Hello Selina. How have you been?"

Selina let go and responded, "I'm good."

"Miss Wayne just started back at school," Alfred butted in, adding, "Anders Preparatory Academy."

Thompkins nodded. "How do you like it?"

Selina shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. But how have you been?"

Thompkins chuckled in exasperation and responded, "It's been a long week. I helped plan and run the gala tonight."

"Well it is certainly beautiful," Alfred told her, adding an attempt at a flirtatious grin at the end.

Selina inwardly cringed at her butler's attempts to flirt with the younger woman. A flash caught her eye and she glanced across the room.

She almost choked on air.

She turned back to the two adults and asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Uh, just water," Thompkins responded. "Thank you, Selina."

Selina nodded and started towards the opposite side of the gala.

What was _he_ doing here?

She stopped halfway across the room. What was she going to say? _'Hey, it's been a while, I heard you're working for a psychotic crime boss now…'_

Selina took a deep breath. It wasn't a big deal. They were friends.

Calming her raging nerves, Selina made her way up to him and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey Bruce," she said.

Bruce's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Selina!" he practically yelled in surprise. He swallowed hard and simply said, "Hey." They paused, scanning each other.

She noticed that he'd gotten taller, which kind of annoyed her.

He noticed that she'd gotten taller, which kind of annoyed him.

Finally, Selina broke the silence and stated, "I didn't expect to see you here."

Bruce scoffed, throwing on one of his signature smirks. "Well, if you wanna steal stuff, it helps to go where the rich people are…"

Selina raised an eyebrow. "You do know this is a benefit for a Children's Hospital…"

Bruce nodded. "So?" he asked, starting to regain his composure. He noticed that the number of eyes on him had skyrocketed since he'd started talking to Selina, which was very bad. Floyd was currently across the room, but he'd probably swing by in a second. Also, if Selina was here then her monkey wouldn't be too far behind, and he would probably report him to security. He needed to finish this conversation quickly.

"So these people are here for a good cause." Selina stated. She didn't know why she didn't like that he was stealing from the patrons of the gala. Hell, she doubted that any of the attendees were much better than him.

"Me eating is a good cause," Bruce retorted. She was practically handing him a reason to be short with her and he could apologize later. "Besides, didn't I steal something for you once?" he asked pointedly.

Selina shook her head. "That was different…"

Bruce nodded. "Right." He knew that he should've walked away right then and there, but a question was still nagging at him. "How'd that all go?" Bruce asked. "You get into that guy's safe?"

"Yes, though things turned out differently than I'd thought…" Selina paused. He saw her cheeks go a bit pinker than they were before.

Shit. He knew where this was going. He should've just walked away…

"A lot's happened since then," she continued, glancing down at the ground awkwardly. She wasn't herself when she was around Bruce Kyle. If her friends could see her now…

Bruce nodded and then nonchalantly turned and looked over his shoulder.

Selina's heart stuttered. This was not going as well as she'd hoped. She could feel him slipping away again, so she started grasping at straws, saying, "I hear there's gonna be a magician."

"I'm working," Bruce responded immediately. "And hate magicians."

He hated that he was being a douche to her, but the more eyes on him the worse. The best case scenario would be no one even knowing he was there, but here he was having a conversation with the daughter of Gotham herself. He'd ask for forgiveness the next time he saw her, explain why he couldn't talk right then and there.

"I'll see you around, Cat," he said, patting her on the shoulder as he passed.

Selina made her way back to where Alfred was standing, now alone. "I'd like to leave now," she stated simply, offering no reason for her sudden wish to get out of the place.

Alfred raised an eyebrow and told her, "The show's about to start…"

Bruce's jacket was almost full of wallets and small purses, but he could probably fit a few more before having to empty it out again. Bruce made his way over to Floyd who'd just picked an expensive looking broach right off of some lady's sweater. Bruce whispered told him, "I have room for a couple more."

Floyd shook his head and said, "Mine's full so I'm gonna go to the car. We should get going in a few minutes…"

Bruce nodded and they went their separate ways.

Bruce was able to pick off a wallet and a woman's watch before the band stopped playing and the master of ceremonies, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, announced that the entertainment was about to begin.

He settled into a dark corner in the back as two performers made their way onto the stage. The magician was chunky and short with a wild wispy beard while his assistant was blonde and dressed in a bright pink outfit.

The magician addressed the crowd with an over-the-top voice. "Greetings ladies and germs! I am indeed the Great Rudolpho!" He gave the crowd a slight bow as they applauded. He gestured to the woman next to him and said to the audience, "Please ogle my lovely assistant." The woman bowed and the audience applauded again. The magician did a few basic tricks, all of which Bruce saw right through. Pulling a rose from a handkerchief? Easy. Creating a dove from thin air? Child's play.

Bruce was starting to get bored until the magician announced, "For my first act, I'll require a volunteer…" He started pointing around the audience, saying, "Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck…goose…" he finished with an almost sinister tone. Bruce looked at who'd been chosen.

His stomach clenched up and he tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The magician had chosen Selina.

Selina hesitated. She didn't even want to be there in the first place, and now she had to participate in an act? She looked at Alfred for help, of which he offered none. Instead, he lightly prodded her on, saying, "Go on Miss Wayne. Be a sport."

The assistant made her way up to Selina and offered her hand for the girl to take. Selina had a bad feeling about this. However, she went along and followed the woman, much to the bemusement of the crowd which broke into applause.

The woman led her up to the stage and the magician greeted her, "Well aren't you just delicious? What's your name?"

Bruce felt his stomach begin to churn. Something was off here.

Selina felt chills run down her spine. Something about the man creeped her out. Still, she played along and replied, "Selina Wayne."

They had her lay down in a box which exposed her feet and head, and then closed the lids. She knew what trick this was, she'd seen it done before. It wasn't that hard to figure out the whole trick to the act, but she went along with it.

The magician removed two, sharp plates from a bag nearby, telling Selina, "This won't hurt a bit." He looked out on the crowd and jokingly asked, "Is there a doctor in the house?" before lining up the blades with the space between the two boxes.

Bruce's stomach was doing back flips by that point. Something was off…but what? His hand subconsciously drifted to where his switchblade was hidden, just in case.

Alfred apparently sensed it too, as just as the blades were about split Selina in half, he began to protest. However, the magician ignored him and shoved the plates downwards.

Bruce's heart dropped in his chest. He took hold of the handle on his knife. He felt his heart beat as the seconds passed.

One. Two. Three.

The assistant rolled away Selina's lower half, and the top half looked out at the crowd with a smile.

Bruce felt his body relax. Every nerve in his body had seemed to fire at once. He looked down and realized that he'd opened his switchblade and was holding it towards the stage. Shaking his head, he closed it and slid it back into his jacket pocket before anyone could see. He chuckled at himself, getting all worked up over a magic trick. Not only a magic trick, but one of the easiest and simplest magic tricks in the book. He slumped back against the wall as the assistant "reattached" Selina's two halves and opened the box, helping her out and walking her back to Alfred.

He noticed that the assistant lingered for a moment, taking the time to blow a kiss at Dr. Thompkins…

That was odd.

However, Bruce's train of thought was broken by the magician announcing, "For my next illusion, I'd like to call to the stage esteemed Deputy Mayor Harrison Kane.

They brought the man up onto the stage and positioned him in front of a board. The assistant brought out a tray of knives, and then quickly bowed. However, when she bowed, her mask fell from her headdress.

No. She didn't drop it. She took it off for a second. Why would she do that?

Bruce's stomach started to clench again, but he reminded himself that this was a charity gala for a Children's Hospital and that the magician performed for children for a living. He just needed to relax.

The magician approached the table and picked up one of the knives, studying it carefully.

Bruce glanced over to where Selina, Alfred, and Dr. Thompkins had been standing…

Every bone in his body froze at once and a pang of terror went through his heart.

He saw a foot being pulled around a corner, kicking and resisting. It was an odd motion, one that almost would never happen in any situation other than someone being dragged backwards.

He looked up at the stage, and then around the gala hall. The doors were all shut. They hadn't been shut earlier. The waiters were spaced out evenly around the edges of the room, surrounding the main crowd completely. It made sense that they wouldn't be in the middle of the room, but it was still something that stuck out to Bruce. Then there were the performers themselves. Something had seemed off all night. The main magician seemed too sinister to perform for kids. What was his name again?

Slowly, Bruce started edging his way along the wall, closer and closer to where Selina was standing with Alfred.

The magician looked out at the crowd and stated, "Oh by the way, nobody here is getting out alive…"

The crowd laughed, but Bruce took that as the final sign. He full on sprinted towards Selina as the magician threw the knife straight into the Deputy Mayor's chest.

There was a moment of shocked silence before chaos ensued. Bruce knew he was still a few dozen feet from reaching Selina, and that there was a waiter standing five to six feet behind her. Could he reach her before the waiter did? Should he grab Selina and run or attack the waiter and take his chances? Were the waiters even involved with the magician? Time slowed down as the waiters collectively removed light machine guns from underneath their trays.

Scratch the idea about attacking the waiter. His only objective was to grab Selina and run to the hidden passage that he and Floyd had used to get in. Time went to a snail's pace as the guns started to fire. Luckily, they seemed to be trying to cause chaos rather than shoot people, which gave Bruce a few more seconds to reach Selina before the waiter saw him.

Selina looked up just as Bruce's hand latched onto her wrist. He didn't have time to say anything or explain where he was going. Instead, he charged straight at a solid-looking wall full speed. Just as his front leg would've made contact, the wall folded away and became a curtain that he slipped through, Selina in tow. They were halfway out of the passage before Bruce finally let go and they fell in stride.

Bruce told her, "I used this to sneak into the party. We're lucky those bastards didn't know about it…"

"Wait," Selina started.

"We're almost outside," he told her, continuing to walk towards the exit.

"Wait!" she shouted, grabbing his hand and stopping him. "I have to go back," she stated.

"Are you crazy? That guy was killing people!"

"Yes. And Alfred's back there," she responded, fear very apparent in her voice.

He looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "I'm not going back," he stated, trying to convince her to escape with him.

"I don't expect you to," Selina responded.

Bruce froze, unable to say anything else to that. He shook his head and started to turn and walk away, but she called, "Bruce…" He stopped and turned back to her, hoping that she'd had a change of heart and was going to save herself. "I miss you. I just wanted to say that," she stated simply before turning and running back towards the gala hall.

Bruce stood there, dumbstruck. Why did she always have to be a hero? He turned and ran away from the hall, shame eating away at whatever dignity he had left.

He worked for a psychopath who'd brutally killed too many people to count.

He was a lowlife thief and that's all he'd ever be.

He knew that.

He was okay with that.

…

…

…

God dammit.

Bruce sprinted towards the nearby alleyway where Floyd was parked. He threw open the door and Floyd started, "The hell is going on in…?" but Bruce cut him off.

He threw his jacket into the car and told Floyd, "Give me your gun."

"What?" Floyd asked.

"You need to get out of here with the stuff. The police might set up a perimeter and if we get caught, we're done for, now give me your gun," Bruce told him in one breath.

"What are you gonna do?" Floyd asked while handing Bruce his revolver.

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "Something really fucking stupid."

* * *

Selina arrived at the curtain and peered through it. On stage, the imposter magician had removed his disguise and revealed himself as Robert Greenwood: cannibal, Arkham escapee, leader of the Maniax, and murderer of Commissioner Essen. Next to him was Barbara Keen, former girlfriend of Jim Gordon and the only female member of the Arkham escapees.

A gunshot fired and Selina lurched backwards. The crowd let out a collective shriek as an apple, which had precariously been perched on a man's head, was blown into a thousand little pieces. A few moments of silence passed until Greenwood shouted, "CLAP!"

The audience obeyed, applauding the trick. Selina scanned over the room. Alfred was among the captive audience, there was a man lying unconscious on the stage, and the camera crew from earlier was filming the entire thing under Greenwood's direction.

Greenwood announced, "I think it's time for tonight's first _official_ victim. You all know and love her. Poor rich girl, parents murdered in an alley, and my favorite volunteer," he said, licking his lips. "Where is Selina Wayne!?"

Silence followed. Selina was worried that they could hear her heart beating.

"Selina?" Greenwood lulled. "Where are you hiding?" he growled, pacing up and down the stage as he searched the audience. "SELINA!" he yelled in frustration. "Where are you, honey?"

"Kill her butler," Keen intervened.

Selina's heart dropped in her chest. This is what she'd been afraid of. She watched, frozen, as Alfred was grabbed and shoved up towards the stage.

Greenwood licked his chops, saying, "All right, last chance, kid, but it's about to get very butler-brainy out here…"

Selina swallowed. She knew what would happen if she didn't give herself up, but her legs wouldn't budge.

Why wasn't she moving?

If she didn't move, Alfred would die and it'd be her fault.

Even then, she remained completely still, frozen in fear.

Greenwood shook his head. He took the revolver from the table, pulled back the hammer, and raised it to Alfred's head. "Pity. Good help is hard to find nowadays."

Bang.

A body dropped and the audience screamed. A hand grabbed Selina's shoulder and pulled her away from the curtain as dozens of police officers streamed into the hall, shouting at the people to get on the ground. A few more gunshots were fired, and then it was quiet.

Selina saw Gordon's lips moving, but she couldn't hear the words coming out.

The next few minutes were a blur. There was one final scream from the audience, and then an eruption of gunfire, and then silence again. Later, someone would tell her that Greenwood, wounded from the bullet he'd initially taken before the police invaded, got up and was about to kill Dr. Thompkins when Theo Galavan distracted him. Galavan took a knife in the side, but the distraction gave the SWAT team enough time to fill Greenwood with bullets, ending the threat.

Selina was led outside where she met Alfred. She hugged him and started to cry which felt all too similar to the night of her parents murders. He assured her that he was fine, that it was all over and they were safe. After a few minutes, Selina calmed down enough to talk to one of the officers on the scene. She told the woman how she'd found a secret exit out of the hall, how she'd hid there, how she'd watched as Alfred was called up. She broke down again. The female officer told her that it was alright and that she'd helped save a lot of lives that day. Selina didn't see how she'd helped at all. All she'd done was freeze up and watch while Alfred was nearly shot. She calmed down enough to finish giving her testimony, how there'd been a gunshot, how Greenwood had fallen and then the GCPD had stormed the building.

Alfred led her off after that, putting her in the limousine and then going off to talk to Gordon.

He told Gordon, "I just wanted to thank you, sir, for saving my life."

Gordon shook his head. "It was nothing. I was just doing my job."

Alfred nodded but he had one more question. "Would you mind introducing me to the officer who shot Greenwood?" he requested.

Gordon's smile dropped and he looked over his shoulder apprehensively. He took Alfred by the shoulder and led him off to the side. He sighed and whispered, "We don't know who it was."

Alfred raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Wasn't it one of your men?"

Gordon shook his head. "Greenwood was on the ground before we got there. Then when Forensics checked the bullet, it was a different caliber than any police weapon," Gordon told him.

"Well then, who shot Greenwood?" Alfred asked.

* * *

Bruce sat atop the roof of the gala, looking down on the scene as medics and officers rushed about, no doubt trying to piece together what had happened. He looked down at the revolver in his hands. He'd reached the balcony of the gala just as Greenwood raised the gun to Alfred's head.

Bruce hadn't even hesitated.

He knew that Floyd's gun was accurate, but he hadn't known just _how_ accurate. A few centimeters right or left and he would've killed Greenwood.

Why hadn't he?

He had a clear shot and could've ended the threat right then and there. He didn't know that the police were going to arrive a few seconds later. Hell, if he'd missed, a lot of people could've died unnecessarily and it would've been his fault.

He looked at the weapon in his hands with distain.

Why did Floyd carry something like this? How could he? A split second decision and the weapon could ruin, or even end, someone's life.

Bruce spat. The first chance he'd get, he'd return it to Floyd, preferably with a full cartridge.

He looked down at the small crowd below. A single, curly head of hair stuck out to him above all the rest. He watched as she was taken into a makeshift-headquarters, probably to give her account of the event. He watched as Alfred took her to their car and then closed the door.

His body relaxed as the car drove away, hopefully going somewhere far away from the scene. The best thing for that girl was to stay as far away from Gotham as possible.

Bruce scoffed.

Like that was ever gonna happen.

He stood from his perch and began his run across the rooftops of Gotham. He got home around one in the morning, and, for once, got a good night's sleep, knowing that Selina Wayne was far, far away from the hellish city that he called home.

* * *

"Ra's al Ghul, forgive me, but I still do not understand our actions tonight," Galavan said on bended knee. "What was the point of all of this? We could have killed the Deputy Mayor whenever we wanted to and Greenwood needn't have died…"

"Patience, my son," Ra's uttered, just barely audible. "The beginning of the final foundation was laid tonight."

"The Son of Gotham?" Galavan asked.

Ra's nodded. "Indeed. The Son of Gotham." He turned to his servant and asked, "Has young Mr. St. Cloud befriended the Wayne girl yet?"

Galavan nodded. "Yes, Ra's al Ghul. He has."

Ra's thanked him and Galavan left. He looked out over Gotham and sighed.

"Just how far can I push you...Bruce Wayne?"

 **A/N: Well, I have quite a few things to say. First off, thank you so much for all your support on this series! It means the literal world to me that people are enjoying what I'm writing. If you enjoyed or have any critiques/questions, then make sure to review! Now: for those of you who want to read my rambling, please continue down below :=)**

 **I'm so freaking excited. I can't even put into words how excited I got when I heard that Gotham Season 5 was coming out on January 3** **rd** **. Now, it is a little terrifying since I was estimating that I had until at least late February to reach Season 3. Oh well. Also, SEASON 5 IS GETTING ANOTHER 2 EPISODES MEANING THAT GOTHAM AS A SERIES WILL BE 100 EPISODES LONG WHICH IS FREAKING AMAZING!**

 **As for this chapter, it was one of my favorites so far and it's really gonna kick off the heavy plot for the remainder of the season. Plus, another appearance of Ra's! His involvement is going to be crucial for the events for the rest of the series, so keep an eye on him.**

 **Also, please excuse my use of the F word. I don't like the word. I don't say the word irl. But it was just so perfect and the moment felt earned and using 'freaking' instead of f****** felt kinda lame. I still find it weird to think that little Bruce Wayne, the BabyBat in BabyBatCat, could use the f word though...**

 **And this is kinda off topic but I'm deleting the post I made where I was asking for your feedback on choosing between Roles Reversed and a series on Whenever You Need Me. Thank you for all your help though!**

 **Well, that's all I can think of for now. I'm sure that as soon as I post this I'm gonna come up with a thousand other things I want to talk to y'all about, but I guess they'll just have to wait until next chapter. Once again: thank you all so much for your support. It means everything to me. Thanks for reading!**


	15. The Cost of Scars

**A/N: So, I'm an awful person. I didn't mean to take over a month-long hiatus, but I did. I wrote two pieces for two other fandoms while I was away, one of which got a lot of hate from a single, really-toxic reviewer (who knew _Girl Meets World_ was so cut-throat?). So before the chapter starts I'd like to thank you all for being so encouraging to me as I've gone through the longest project of my entire career to this point. I never realized just how amazing the Gotham community is until I saw how bad it is in other places. It's just so good to be home. I hope you enjoy Chapter 15! **

**Also, the name 'Gar' is pronounced like 'Gar' in Gary, not like 'gar' in garbage. Just wanted to let you know as it'd probably be confusing if I didn't :)**

 **The Cost of Scars**

Selina was finishing up gymnastics practice a little late, lost in a world of her own thoughts.

So, when a male voice said, "Hey, Selina!" really loud behind her, she did what anyone else would've done.

She kicked.

Sterling St. Cloud fell flat on his butt, extreme pain evident on his face as he held onto his lower regions.

Her eyes went wide and she started apologizing profusely. He painfully laughed, saying it was fine but he needed a minute.

He eventually recovered and she helped him up to his feet. Sterling was one of the only people at Anders who wasn't a stuck-up, rich snob, like Thomas Elliot and his goons, or an all-too-peppy, talkative person like one of her best friends, Tammy.

Tammy was great and all, but Sterling was just…chill, a normal human being.

And a very cute normal human being, at that.

Selina grabbed their bags and they walked out together, talking and laughing and making fun of Thomas Elliot. The idiot had asked one of the most popular girls in school to the upcoming dance in front of the entire lunch room, and gotten a big, fat 'no' in return.

"Speaking of the dance," Sterling started hesitantly, his face starting to redden, "I've been meaning to ask if…you'd want to go with me?"

Selina froze; her mouth opening and closing noiselessly like a fish out of water. She felt her face heat up. Yeah...she hadn't been expecting that.

Apparently her lack of a response spooked Sterling as he started backtracking, quickly spluttering out, "If-you-don't-want-to-go-with-me-that's-fine-too-I-know-that-it's-your-first-year-here-and-you-may-just-want-to-go-with-your-friends-which-is-cool-too…"

She held a hand up and he stopped talking. She smiled and told him, "I'd love to go to the dance with you."

"Really?" he asked.

She nodded. "Really. Besides, it'd be weird if some random guy asked me. It'll be a lot more fun to go with a friend," she told him.

He nodded. "Right, that's what I was thinking," he said, although he seemed less excited about the prospect now.

* * *

Alfred was just pulling up to the school when he spotted the familiar silhouette of Bruce Kyle perched atop the school wall. He pulled up right underneath the teen and shouted, "Are you waitin' for someone?"

Bruce's eyes snapped downwards. He'd been lost in his own world of thought, not noticing the butler's presence until he'd announced himself. Bruce quickly recollected himself and coolly responded, "No." He slid off of his perch and dropped to the ground next to the butler, starting to say, "Nice car," but never finishing.

If his head had been in the moment, he probably could've dodged the punch, but his mind was elsewhere. So, naturally, it hit its mark.

Hard.

Bruce buckled over, stars swimming in his eyes. There was a sharp pain in his left temple but he grit his teeth and stood to face the man who'd just hit him.

His hand impulsively drifted towards his coat pocket where Floyd's gun was still stashed from a few nights prior, the night that he'd shot Greenwood.

If Alfred had tried to hit him again…in hindsight…Bruce didn't know what he would've done. However, he never got the chance to make a mistake as Alfred's next words shook him into a stupor.

"That's for Reggie," he growled murderously. Bruce's eyes went wide and he paled. How did he know about that? Had Selina told him? "I know you got him killed," Alfred told him. "Now, I don't know what you want with Miss Wayne, but I'm certain that his life's gonna be a damn sight better without you in it." He stepped closer to Bruce, his voice going even deeper than before, saying, "So, you do yourself a favor, boy, and jog on."

Bruce clenched his teeth. Glancing over Alfred's shoulder, he saw Selina, smiling and laughing and talking with a guy. He was tall, blonde, and good-looking, probably rich too. She looked…happy.

Bruce nodded. He swallowed hard and told Alfred, "All good." He turned away from the man and quickly ascended the wall, ducking out of sight as quickly as physically possible.

He slid down the other side and sat up against it, listening as Selina introduced Alfred to the other kid, Sterling St. Cloud. Bruce scoffed. Even the kid's name sounded better than his own.

The car doors slammed shut and it drove off.

Bruce sat there for God-knows how long, swallowing back tears which hadn't been shed for a long, long time.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up, brushed himself off, and got a cab to take him back to Gotham.

He trudged into the Gym with his hung head low and his brow furrowed. Ted spotted him first and immediately understood, throwing Bruce a pair of boxing gloves and grabbing a pair for himself. Bruce didn't even warm up, he just started throwing punches. Ted apparently decided that Bruce was too much of a wreck at the moment to spar full force, so he threw the slowest, worst-aimed punches Bruce had ever seen. Meanwhile, Bruce was throwing haymakers, most just barely missing Ted's face.

Maybe Alfred was right. How many times had he hurt Selina? Put her in harm's way? Was she better off without him?

The easy answer: no, of course not. How many times had he saved her life?

The honest answer...

The other kids's name popped into his head: Sterling St. Cloud.

He threw a particularly hard punch into Ted's gut. His brother doubled over and held up a hand for him to stop while he caught his breath. He got a smirk on his face and wheezed out, "So it's girl trouble then? Someone else talking to a girl you like? Wondering if you can compete with him?"

Bruce looked down at his older brother in shock. "How the hell did you figure all that out?"

"You were muttering the whole time," Ted responded snarkily. "Well that, and you kept getting more and more reckless as you got angrier. If it was "business"-stuff, you would've been able to keep your head. Same thing if it was friend-stuff. But girls," he shook his head and chuckled, "girls bring out the most animalistic parts of us guys. Nothing we can do about it. You were thinking about the other guy while you fought, comparing yourself to him which got you angry."

Bruce shrugged, "Maybe."

Ted laughed, "Dude, you gotta be kidding me! You're Bruce Kyle, badass thief extraordinaire. Who does this kid think he is making a move on your woman?"

Bruce shook his head with a smirk and responded, "I wouldn't exactly call her 'my woman'." Just saying that out loud felt weird.

"Well then, what would you call her?" Ted asked, finally back on his feet.

Bruce shook his head. "No clue."

Ted took a swipe at his head which missed by a centimeter at the most. "Then figure it out, and keep you head in the game!"

* * *

"Now, Miss Wayne, you know that I'll be just over at the bar if you need me," Alfred reminded her for the fifth time in the past half-hour.

"Yes, Alfred, I know. I'll be fine," Selina told him. "It's just a business dinner."

They arrived in the main dining room of the Regal Hotel and found Mr. Galavan waiting at a table near the main window. The view out of the window was breathtaking. You could see all the way to the Southside Bridge from there, the entirety of the Gotham skyline sprawled out below.

"Mr. Galavan," Selina started, "thank you for meeting me," she said, shaking the man's hand.

"It's an honor," Galavan replied, "the pleasure's all mine."

"I'll be just over there, Miss Wayne," Alfred told her, nodding across the room to the bar.

"Oh, why not dine with us?" Galavan asked.

Alfred smiled sheepishly and replied, "That's very kind of you, sir, but I don't think it's appropriate. And I know that Miss Wayne wants to speak to you on her own." He pulled out Selina's chair for her and asked, "Madam?"

"Thank you, Alfred," Selina said, taking a seat at the table.

Galavan did the same and Alfred bustled off.

"Do you like this place?" Galavan asked Selina, gesturing to the restaurant.

Selina shrugged. "I've never been here before. To be honest, we don't get out much," she told him.

"Well I hope I can change that," Galavan told her. "There's always some tedious function I could drag you to," he said with a small laugh.

Selina chuckled and told him, "I just wanted to thank you in person, for saving Alfred and Dr. Thompkins' lives."

Galavan shook his head, saying, "You're very kind. The truth is, I don't know what came over me. I don't think I was in complete control of my faculties," he said with a chuckle. His face returned to a more serious demeanor and Galavan told her, "I also wanted to speak to you face-to-face. It's regarding your parents' passing."

Selina's heart dropped in her chest. Did he know something? The case had gone cold for so long…

Galavan continued, "I find it astonishing that the police have failed to produce any evidence or any real suspect in all this time…"

Selina nodded. "It is disappointing."

"Even your father's own company, Wayne Enterprises, has failed to advance the investigation in any way."

Selina turned her head and looked out the window. She could see her father's building from there. Well…technically it was _her_ building now.

Galavan may've said something next, but he never got the chance as another voice butted in, "Uncle, can I have the keys? I left my wallet in the car."

Selina whipped around to the voice. It was familiar, she'd heard it just earlier that day.

Sure enough, there stood Sterling St. Cloud.

"Sterling?" she asked.

"Oh, hey, Selina," he replied, seemingly not surprised at all.

"I-I didn't know you two were…" Selina started.

"Young Mr. St. Cloud is my nephew," Galavan told her.

"My father passed a couple of years ago," Sterling explained. "Sorry if I didn't mention it before…"

"No, no," Selina told him, "it's fine. Trust me, I get it. Not having parents just…it's makes you feel—"

"Different," Sterling finished.

Selina nodded.

Galavan looked between the two curiously and told Sterling, "Why don't you pull up a chair, Sterling? I think we've got a lot to talk about."

* * *

Bruce was strolling along the rooftops of Gotham, progressively getting closer and closer to the roof's edge with each passing building. He couldn't get that damn sentence out of his head:

" _I don't know what you want with Miss Wayne, but I'm certain that his life's gonna be a damn sight better without you in it."_

Maybe Alfred was right. Selina deserved someone who could provide for her, protect her, give her a good life. He couldn't do that. He was a street-rat and a thug.

Hell, he was about to go mediate between Butch Gilzean and a couple of arsonists for a couple hundred bucks.

What right did he have, expecting Selina to just wait for him?

He scaled down a fire escape to street level, leaning up against the entrance to an old, rundown apartment complex. Butch eventually pulled up and they entered cautiously. As they walked up the stairs, Butch told him, "Just let me do the talking. You just smile and make like we're friends."

Bruce gave him a questioning look and asked, "Friends?" Butch nodded and Bruce smirked. "That's a hundred extra," he said, jogging up the stairs.

Butch muttered something but followed after him.

"So, how fast do you think they'll pull a gun on you?" Bruce asked him.

Butch scoffed. The arsonists in question, the Pike Brothers, were strong Fish Mooney loyalists. Back in the city-wide gang war, Butch had shot Fish, ending up with her dead. But Bruce had used to run with the youngest of the brothers when they were kids, and he already had a good reputation in the Gotham Underworld. Plus, everyone knew that Jack considered Bruce to be a friend of his, which meant a lot to anyone who worked in the Narrows.

Bruce knocked on the door. Awful rock music blared inside and you could smell the gasoline and kerosene before the door even opened.

After a few seconds and a few shouts inside, the door cracked open slightly.

"Hey, Gar," Bruce said.

Garfield Pike opened the door a bit wider and Bruce cringed at the sight of him. He looked so different from the last time he'd seen him. Granted, it'd been a few years, but still. He was a bit taller than Bruce now, but was really skinny, too skinny, and had burn marks all over his mangled hands and forearms. He'd even started to grow out a thin layer of dark stubble, making his face look like he was constantly in a shadow.

"Hey, Bruce," Gar replied. "It's been a while."

Bruce nodded to Butch. "Me and my pet gorilla are here on business. Your brothers home?"

Garfield swallowed and then nodded. "Yeah."

He opened the door a bit wider and let Bruce and Butch inside. Bruce had only seen the inside of their apartment once before and it'd been a wreck back then. He didn't know how it could've gotten worse.

It'd gotten a lot worse, just like everything else in his life, apparently.

Empty beer bottles were strewn about the room, it smelled sickeningly of a mix between napalm and cannabis (aka. weed), and the sink was nearly filled to the ceiling with dirty dishes. There was a single couch with a couple of tables and there sat the three eldest Pike brothers, Joe, Cale, and Evan Pike.

They initially smiled up at Bruce, but then they saw Butch behind him. The eldest Pike, Joe, pulled a revolver on Butch before he could even say a word.

Butch held his hands up and calmly said, "Hey, boys."

Joe turned to Bruce and asked, "What're you doing with this rat, Bruce?"

"He's okay," Bruce told them. "I vouch for him."

"What do you mean "okay"?" the youngest of the three, Evan Pike, asked. "The bastard shot Fish."

"It was complicated," Bruce told him. "As is everything else in our fields of profession, so can we put the guns away and act like professionals?"

Cale, the middle one, and Joe looked at each other for a few seconds. Joe turned back and finally addressed Butch, asking, "What do you want?"

Bruce answered for him, "He's got a nice job for you guys." Bruce leaned up against the bar and offhandedly stated, "Business is business, right?"

"Hey, bygones, huh?" Butch asked. "We need the best, and you guys are the best," he told them, reaching for his inner coat pocket.

All three brothers collectively clocked back their guns and raised them at Butch. Bruce instinctively reached for his own gun.

He really needed to stop doing that.

Butch raised his hands in the air and told them, "Whoa, easy."

Slowly, he reached back into the pocket and took out a slip of paper. He handed it to Bruce who handed it to the Pikes, however not without taking a glance at the order. He knew that Penguin had a big job planned, but this order was insane.

Joe took it from him and read it first, whistling in surprise. "That's a lot of work," he told Butch.

"A lot of pay," Butch responded. "You up for it?"

Joe set his pistol back on the table and handed the paper to his brothers. "For sure," he told Butch.

"We'll need more gear," Evan told his brothers. "I'll hit the Merc and stock up."

"We've got enough gear to burn down Gotham twice," Joe retorted.

"There's always room for more napalm," Evan responded, standing up and walking out of the apartment.

Joe huffed and shook his head in exasperation.

Gar walked up to the fridge and got out four bottles of beer, handing two to Bruce and Butch and the other two to his brothers. As he walked away, Joe kicked him hard in the back of his knee. "Hey, kid," Joe said with a threatening tone. Gar took a deep breath and turned back to his older brother who asked, "What are you? A slob?"

Bruce almost laughed, given the state that the apartment was in.

However, Joe wasn't done yet. "We have company. What do we do when we have company?" he asked Gar with irritation clear on his face.

"We get them a glass," Gar answered.

"Ding, ding, ding," Joe told him. "Go and do it."

Gar did as he asked, handing a glass to Butch and Bruce, and then giving one to Joe.

Sensing he was no longer needed, Gar turned and trudged off.

Bruce felt really bad for him. He'd known that the Pike Brothers were shit-bags, but still…

He turned and left the awful apartment, just hearing Butch tell Joe, "You're gonna need this," and handing him a small box.

Bruce threw away the bottle of bear and the glass the first chance he got. He was just passing an alleyway when he heard his name called. He turned and saw Gar standing there, obviously still in pain from his brother's kick.

Bruce nodded. "Hey, Gar."

"Hey," Gar responded.

Bruce glanced around and offhandedly commented, "Looks like rain."

Gar nodded. "Yeah, it does." He glanced sheepishly down at his feet.

"I don't mind it," Bruce continued, refusing to let the conversation become stale or awkward. "Cleans the streets, anyhow."

"That's true."

"Anyway, um…" Bruce paused as thunder rolled above them. "Take care of yourself, Gar. Be strong."

Gar smiled at him, the first time that he'd seen him smile for the whole visit. "Thanks. Take care of yourself, too, Bruce."

Bruce nodded. "Always."

 **A/N: Sorry for a less-action filled chapter than normal. This one was mostly just setup for the next chapter (which** _ **will**_ **be coming out within the next week or so) so sorry if it was slower than normal. And once again I just wanted to thank you all for how kind and supportive and involved you've been with me throughout this series and my other oneshots. This fandom is the single best I've ever been involved in and I'll always appreciate it. I've grown so much over the past year and this project has been a huge part of that. So, to those who've stuck it out (even through the first few chapters which, in hindsight, weren't so great), thank you. It means more to me than you could ever know.**

 **So if you enjoyed or have any comments/questions/critiques, PLEASE REVIEW! Your feedback is why I post on here, after all. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **Oh, and only 13 days till Gotham Season 5 airs…just thought I should mention that ;)**


	16. Spark

**A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! The last chapter was a bit slow for my taste, but don't worry. This one's gonna start off with a bang.**

 **Literally.**

 **Spark**

Bruce heard the explosion from three blocks away.

The news spread quickly. There'd been a GCPD raid on the Merc, an illegal weapons store deep in the heart of the Narrows. In the firefight that ensued, someone hit an explosive. Only one person died: Evan Pike.

The next day, Bruce went back to the Pike's apartment. It somehow smelled worse than the day before. The door was propped open so he let himself in and found Gar putting on a long, silver glove.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Gar whirled around in surprise. He smiled, "Hey, Bruce. I was making a suit, so I won't get burned again," he said, holding up his fully-covered arm for Bruce to see.

Bruce furrowed his brow. "Why would you get burned again?"

Gar nodded to his left leg which was thoroughly bandaged.

"So…they're making you start the fires?" Bruce pieced together.

Gar shrugged. "I guess." He nodded to the couch in the corner and asked, "You want a soda or something?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, I can't. I'm supposed to take that to Penguin," Bruce told him, pointing to the long, wicked-looking knife on the table.

Gar nodded. "Oh, okay." He went back to fidgeting with the sewing machine. He had this weird look in his eyes and he seemed different than the day before.

"You know you're gonna get yourself killed, right?" Bruce asked him.

"Says the guy who works for the most dangerous man in Gotham," Gar retorted.

"Setting fires and stealing things are two very different jobs."

Gar scoffed. "I'll be careful."

"Well, careful ain't enough," Bruce mocked. "Look what happened already."

"It was _fun_ , Bruce," Garfield told him. "I actually kind of enjoyed it." He went back to fidgeting with his glove.

"Yep. You're gonna be bacon," Bruce said in exasperation.

He started to walk away. Gar shouted at him, "My brothers said I did a good job!" Bruce stopped and Gar continued, "It's the family business."

"They're not your family," Bruce retorted. "Your mom used to bang their old man is all. You don't need them," Bruce told him. "You don't need anybody. Look at me, I'm free."

Gar scoffed and shook his head. "You know, I remember when we were little and you showed up at the Narrows. You looked for your mom every day. Snot all down your face from crying, so don't act like you don't want a family."

"Don't talk about my mother," Bruce growled, getting in real close to Gar and giving him his most threatening glare.

Apparently Gar wasn't intimidated. "Who cares if you're free?" Gar asked him. "What good's freedom if you're alone?"

"What good's family if you're a slave? What's good's family if you're _dead_?" Gar clenched his jaw, shook his head, and turned back to his work. Bruce scoffed. "Whatever." He walked away, saying, "Go on, get yourself killed. I don't know why you'd even think I care."

* * *

Bruce trudged into Penguin's headquarters, stabbed the knife into the table, and then slumped down into one of the chairs at the far end of the room, kicking his feet up onto the table. The stupid Pikes, stupid Alfred, stupid Gotham…why couldn't they all just leave him alone for once?

Penguin wasn't even fazed by his demeanor, mumbling, "Teenagers," and then picking the knife up to examine it. Butch entered the room. He gave a nod to Bruce, which Bruce ignored.

Penguin sighed and told Butch, "It doesn't make any sense." He gestured to the bottom of the knife's handle and said, "This is the Wayne family crest."

That got Bruce's attention real quick.

Butch asked, "So what?"

"Why does Galavan want an antique knife that belonged to the Waynes?" Penguin asked.

Bruce racked his brain. Wasn't Galavan the name of the guy running for mayor? It wasn't surprising that a Gotham politician was working with Penguin, but still, he'd seemed like a half-decent guy. At least as far as politicians go.

Penguin turned over the blade and said, "There's something here. Something to understanding Galavan, to beating him."

Butch shrugged. "Well, if you wanna know about old-time Gotham, talk to Edwige."

"Edwige?" Penguin asked.

"She runs the antique shop down on Fifth and Jefferson," Bruce chimed in.

Penguin raised an eyebrow and asked Bruce, "How much have you overheard of this conversation?"

Bruce tilted his head to the side in fake confusion. "What conversation?" he asked, playing dumb.

Penguin smiled and nodded. "You know, Butch, I really, really like him. He reminds me of a younger me, don't you think?"

"The resemblance is uncanny," Butch replied in monotone. "But anyways, Edwige. Trust me, boss. She knows things."

* * *

Bruce left a little while later, not caring enough to listen in on what an old kook thought about an even older knife. He walked home on a different route than usual, subconsciously deciding to pass by the Pike's apartment building.

It was getting dark outside, meaning the criminals of Gotham were gonna come out to play, soon. Maybe he should do the same? It'd been a while since he'd gone on a spree, and he'd kind of missed it.

There was supposedly an apartment on Lincoln and Ninth that was supposed to be empty for a couple of days, some rich couple going on a vacation in Coast City. He could probably get there before anyone else, and even if he didn't he had his gun…

 _Floyd's_ gun.

It was Floyd's, not his. He was just holding onto it until he could meet with him, again.

He _could_ go and loot the house. Or he _could_ go pickpocket a couple drunks at a nearby bar. Or he _could_ just turn in for the night and get a good sleep for once.

He did none of these things.

Instead, his feet took him across the rooftops to the Gotham City Book Depository.

Why was he there? Simple: that was the first place the Pikes were gonna hit tonight.

A better question would be what reason he had for going there. That answer was a lot harder.

He scaled down the fire escape of a building next to it and settled in. He figured that he might be able to stop Gar from doing any more damage, maybe even help him escape his brothers.

However, when he reached the lowest platform on the fire escape, he heard voices down below him. He froze and listened. The voices were familiar, distinct.

James Gordon and Harvey Bullock, one of the best cops in Gotham and one of the sleaziest.

From the look of it, they were on a stakeout. Bruce couldn't drop down from there without being spotted, and he was too late to try and find another way down. So he was stuck there and had to watch as a familiar grey van pulled into the alleyway.

Bruce swore under his breath. This was gonna end really, really badly. He just knew it.

His worst fears were realized when a tall, skinny person in a grey, foil-ish suit stepped out of the van carrying a flame thrower.

Bruce wanted to call out at Gar to get back in the car, to run, but he couldn't. He'd just get them both caught and that wouldn't help anyone.

Gordon and Bullock approached the van with guns drawn. Gordon yelled, "GCPD!"

In a split second, everything went bad. Gar's brothers sped off in the van, leaving him to fend for himself against Gordon, Bullock, and their reinforcements which were sure to arrive in a matter of moments.

Gar leveled the flamethrower at the cops, yelling, "Get back! Please! Get back!"

"Drop it!" Gordon told him. "Put down the weapon!"

Bruce always hated it when cops said that. Like, oh yeah, let me put down my only defense while two people walk towards me with guns. Cause that's a great idea.

So, naturally, Gar didn't put down the weapon.

Instead, he lit it up and blew waves of fire between himself and the cops, momentarily pushing the police back in surprise. He looked to be doing pretty well for himself until the weapon suddenly stopped working. Gar started shaking it in desperation.

Gordon yelled at him to drop the weapon.

Then, everything went even worse than before.

Out of nowhere, a police officer in SWAT gear came up behind Garfield and grabbed him, trying to rip the weapon from his grasp.

Gar screamed at the officer to let him go, fighting back as much as he could. The cop kept telling Gar to drop it, and Bruce prayed a prayer to whatever God was up there that he would. It didn't pan out that way.

Bruce watched in utter horror as Gar slipped from the cop's grasp and lit the ground underneath the officer on fire. Bruce had never seen someone burn before, and he hoped that he'd never have to again. The officer ran towards Gordon, screaming in utter terror as he was burned alive.

Bruce moved without thinking, lowering the ladder underneath him to the floor and yelling, "Garfield!" He looked up at Bruce in surprise, but Bruce offered no explanation other than, "Come on! Follow me!"

"Where are we going?" Gar demanded.

"Anywhere that isn't here," Bruce replied, "unless you want to get arrested for cooking a cop."

* * *

And so Bruce and Gar spent the next hour or so running for their lives, ducking through alleyways, constantly changing directions to avoid being followed. Finally, they arrived at the roof of the Gym. Bruce let them in through his bedroom window and they climbed in as silently as possible. Bruce locked the door and then turned back to Gar who was staring at the floor guiltily.

"My bad," he muttered.

Bruce scoffed. "Yeah, it was 'your bad'. What were you thinking!?" he demanded.

"I was trying not to get thrown out on the streets is what I was thinking!" Gar shot back. Bruce's nodded for him to explain and Gar said, "My brothers threatened me into all of it. They said that if I didn't work with them, I wasn't family. And if I wasn't family…then they'd have no problem selling me off for a quick buck."

Bruce huffed. Those sickos. "We need to get you out of Gotham, tonight," he told Gar.

Gar scoffed and shook his head. "I don't have money."

Bruce thought about that. He didn't have too much money left, just a bit of change…

Then, Bruce smirked. "What were you saying about getting sold off for a quick buck?"

Gar gave him a wary look. "Why do you ask?"

"Because," Bruce continued, his smirk turning into an evil grin, "I have an idea of where we can get some money." He nodded to the flamethrower which Gar had left leaning up against the wall. "Does that thing still work?"

Garfield nodded. "How would that help us?" he asked.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "It's called a stick up, and that thing's gonna help a lot."

"Wait," Gar said, stopping Bruce from exiting. "Who are we sticking up? Isn't that kinda…you know…wrong?"

Bruce scoffed. "You know, for someone who roasted a cop an hour ago, you sure are square." He pulled on a black overcoat and grabbed his old baseball cap and bandana. "But don't worry," Bruce told him, "once you see this place, you won't feel bad for robbing 'em."

* * *

Bruce intentionally never let himself get excited about robbing people. It was a job, a way of survival, nothing more. However, this place was an exception to that rule.

Deep in the Narrows was a warehouse. All of the windows were blacked out and the doors were constantly chained shut. To any passerby, it would seem like any other abandoned building in the Narrows. But Bruce knew better. Through a secret door under the building, you could get into the main room where certain 'auctions' took place for the wealthiest and most corrupt of Gotham.

Bruce knew of a loose window above the catwalks that was easy enough to pry open. He'd only robbed the place twice, and usually it was with a bigger group than just two people, but he had a good feeling about this one.

Electronic music blared in the background as the auctioneer announced to the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen! Or should I say pimps, hoes and thieves? Do I have some product for you today! Do you like what you see?" The crowd cheered in approval.

"What the…" Gar started.

"I know," Bruce agreed, "this place is awful. You see why I wanted to rob 'em now?"

Garfield's expression hardened and he nodded, pulling on his mask and getting his flamethrower started.

There was a long cage in the back of the room, filled with barely-dressed young women. A man took two of the girls from the cage, restraining them with chains around their necks. The auctioneer took the chain and yelled over the crowd, "Bidding will start at $800 apiece!"

And so the bidding went. Gar muttered, "Shouldn't we be doing something?"

"Wait," Bruce told him as they stood in the back corner of the room, hidden from view. "Wait until the bidding stops for these two. The more money the freaks have on hand, the faster we can get out of here."

"But, aren't we helping them?" Gar asked, nodding up to the cage.

Bruce sighed. "If we did, they'd just end up back here, again. Trust me, I've seen it."

"Why?" Gar asked.

"I'll tell you later, just trust me on this one, okay?"

Gar huffed. "Fine," he muttered.

About that time, the auctioneer announced, "I got $2,500, going once! Going twice! Sold to the gentleman in the burgundy hat!"

"Now!" Bruce told him. He raised his pistol in the air and fired a few rounds, startling the crowd and giving Bruce enough time to get up onto the stage. "Hey pervs!" he yelled. "This is a robbery!"

"Milo! Kill that punk!" the auctioneer told one of his men.

Garfield, who'd gone unnoticed up to that point, shot a wave of fire across the audience.

Milo put his gun away real quick.

Bruce threw his empty backpack onto the ground and told the crowd, "Now, each of you put all your cash in the bag."

A particularly brave, or particularly stupid, gangster got up on the end of the stage and challenged, "Or what? I ain't scared of a couple of punks like you!"

Bruce rolled his eyes and asked, "Gar, would you mind?"

"My pleasure," Garfield responded, sending a wave of fire at the man. He shielded himself with his coat and surrendered quickly, coughing up all of his money onto the stage.

"Anybody else got a problem?" Bruce asked. No response except for a rush of people giving up their money. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

About that time, the girls in the cage started clamoring and yelling for the two of them to help them. Bruce swallowed his conscience and continued picking up the money, filling his bag until it could be closed anymore. He slung it over his shoulder and started to walk away, announcing to the crowd, "And for the record, all y'all suck!"

He walked off of the stage and towards the exit. Garfield covered their exit, blowing fire at the crowd as they left.

Bruce blew past the man guarding the exit, sliding over the hood of a car and taking cover as the man yelled after him. Bruce heard the sound of Garfield's flamethrower and the man screaming in terror, and then the door slammed.

Garfield came up next to him, laughing. "Oh, my God."

Bruce nodded, still on an adrenaline high. "I know right? Let's go!"

* * *

The next morning, they walked to the nearest bus station. Gar had changed his fire-fighter getup for regular clothes, packing away his equipment in a duffel bag Bruce had lent him, along with the rest of the money they'd stolen.

"So, where you gonna go?" Bruce asked him.

Garfield shrugged. "South to start, then I'll go west, I think. I hear Starling City is nice this time of year."

Bruce nodded. "Good. Just get far, far away from this hellhole."

Garfield smirked. "Why do you stay here?"

Bruce shrugged and shook his head. "No idea. I've tried to leave, but…"

"You can't," Gar finished.

Bruce nodded. "I got too much baggage to leave, you know? Still got stuff to do."

"Did you and Zee ever work out?" Gar asked.

Bruce shrugged. "We kinda dated for a while. Then…well…it just ended."

"Shame," Gar said. "You two always seemed great together when we were younger."

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, we were. I always thought you had a thing for her."

Gar shrugged. "Maybe…I haven't thought about that in forever, though." He paused and then asked, "So, about those girls last night…why would they have ended up back there?"

Bruce sighed and kicked a stray beer can. "The first two times I robbed that place, I broke the locks, let 'em all out. They could've left, could've ran, but they stayed."

"So, they just wanted to stay?" Gar asked.

Bruce shook his head. "No, they were begging for us to let 'em out, actually. Then, when we did, they all just froze up. The door was open, and they didn't take it."

Gar sighed. "That's so messed up."

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, it is." Bruce took a deep breath and asked, "Gar, the scars on your arms, how did you get them? You didn't have them when we were kids…"

Gar got a far off look in his eye. "When dad died, when Joe took over, he never let me leave the house. All I did was cook and clean. When I messed up…" He paused and restarted. "Bruce, I was in that house for years, no escape. I tried to get out a couple of times, but…"

"You got caught," Bruce finished. Gar nodded. Bruce patted him on the shoulder and told him, "I'm really sorry, Gar. I had no idea. I would've…"

"It's fine, Bruce," Gar told him. "It made me who I am. Made me stronger."

Bruce nodded. He heard the screeching of wheels behind them and turned. His face drained and blood ran cold as ice.

"Garfield…" he started. Barreling towards them was the Pike's van. "Run."

It all happened too fast. Bruce reached for his gun, but fumbled with it. The van door was thrown open and Joe grabbed onto Garfield before Bruce could even raise a protest. Finally, he got the pistol out, but Joe knocked it away.

He felt a sharp pain in his left leg and his body dropped to the floor and he writhed in pain. The van sped off, leaving Bruce lying in the street, his left leg soaked in blood.

Have you ever heard of those stories where a mom is able to lift a car off of her child or something? Someone doing something completely impossible under normal circumstances, but being too jacked on adrenaline to notice?

Yeah, somehow Bruce managed rip the knife out of his leg and then chase after the van through twelve city blocks, his left leg bleeding profusely the whole time. He lost the van really quickly, but he had an idea of where it was going. Granted, he wasn't going straight there. He had to make a quick stop first to restock on weapons.

The back room of Penguin's headquarters was stockpiled with shotguns, pistols, grenades, rifles, anything you could ever ask for.

Now, his luck had been off for the past couple of weeks, so he figured the universe owed him a favor. All he needed was for nobody to be at Penguin's. That was it. That was all he asked.

The universe apparently hated him.

He was able to get into the back room easy enough, taking a pair of double-barrel shotguns and a couple extra round of ammunition. When he came back out, however, the main room was no longer empty. In fact, there stood none other than James Gordon himself.

Bruce leveled his shotgun at Gordon's chest, standing behind Penguin's throne to hide his wounded leg.

Gordon raised his pistol back at Bruce, telling him, "Hands in the air, Kyle!" Bruce ignored him. "Drop the gun," Gordon insisted.

"Like hell I will," Bruce responded. The world started to tilt sideways, so he leaned against the chair for support.

"Where's the other kid?" Gordon asked.

"Who?"

"We got both of you on tape," Gordon told him.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Gordon," Bruce lied.

Gordon sighed. "He's burned down half a dozen buildings. Killed a cop. You're running with a bad partner, kid."

"You don't understand. He was forced to do all of that!" Bruce argued.

Gordon stared at him for a few moments and then apparently decided that he was telling the truth. He put his gun away, but Bruce kept his shotgun trained at his chest. "Okay," Gordon told him. "Let me help him. Who is he? Who's forcing him to do this?" Gordon asked. Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to decide whether or not to let Gordon help him. He was wasting time! "Look, there's a lot of angry cops out there. He's gonna get shot on sight unless I get to him first."

Bruce knew he was losing a lot of blood, too much. He lowered his gun and used his now free hand to support himself even more. He sighed. "His name is Garfield Pike. His brothers took him back. Joe and Cale Pike. They, like, kidnapped him. They're the ones who made him start burning stuff in the first place. It's their fault the cop died!" he told Gordon.

"The Pike brothers?" Gordon asked. "Why'd they burn down Wayne Enterprises' buildings? Who paid them?"

Bruce decided to lie this time. "Why the hell should I know why the Pikes do anything? They're freaking nuts. They treated Garfield like a slave, they burned him, they chained him to a wall."

"And you're angry about it," Gordon summed up. "Is that why you're armed? You gonna go after the Pikes? Rescue your friend?"

"No," Bruce lied.

"That's a yes." Gordon told him, "Look, you're gonna get your friend and yourself killed. Let me handle the Pikes."

Bruce scoffed. Everything was fuzzy now. "No offense, Jim, but I like my chances better than yours."

He started to walk away, but Gordon stopped him. Good thing, too, because if he'd taken one more step, he would've probably passed out and face planted. "Why get involved?" Gordon asked him. "Why risk your neck? Who is this guy to you?"

"No one," Bruce told him. "Just a kid in the neighborhood."

Gordon sighed. He looked Bruce dead in the eye and told him, "I give you my word, I will do everything I can to keep him safe. But you have to stay out of it." Bruce gritted his teeth. He knew he shouldn't trust a cop. He should just go after Garfield himself. Then again, in the state he was in, he could barely even walk. He nodded. "Tell me where he is," Gordon said.

* * *

After Gordon left, Bruce was able to wave down a cab. He had never gone to the place before, but he'd never been injured like this before. So, desperate times...

A tall, beautiful dark-haired lady opened the door.

"Bruce?" she asked, clearly surprised. "What're you doing here?"

"Hi, Dr. Thompkins," he started, but he never got to answer why he was there. Instead, his leg finally gave out and he fell through the doorway. Within a few seconds, the world went black and he passed out.

He didn't know how long he'd been out when he'd come to, but it wasn't mid-morning like it had been.

Thompkins noticed his stirring and told him, "Whoa, there, Bruce. Don't move. You lost a lot of blood. Just rest."

"Garfield," Bruce started. "Is he, what happened?"

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Who's Garfield?"

"The…the guy who burned the police officer, you know…" Bruce tried to explain. He was so light headed that putting together a simple sentence seemed like a lot of work.

Thompkins handed him a glass of water, which he took thankfully. She told him, "I cleaned up the wound, although I wouldn't recommend jumping off of any buildings anytime soon."

"How'd you know about…" Bruce started.

Thompkins laughed and told him, "Selina's told me all about you."

"Selina…" he said wistfully. His heart dropped in his chest at the thought of her. It was funny, she was probably off at some charity gala, helping feed the poor and homeless, and meanwhile he was running around with a cop-killer and getting into standoffs with police officers.

Bruce pushed himself up off of the couch he'd been laying on. The blood rushed from his head and he almost fell, but he managed to steady himself out and hobble over to his where his jacket was hung up. He told Thompkins, "Well, thanks for helping me, but I have to go…"

He was interrupted by the door opening. On impulse, he reached for his gun and aimed it at the newcomer.

Just his luck: it was none other than James Gordon.

Bruce took a deep breath and dropped his gun to his side.

"Oh, hey, Bruce," Gordon said nonchalantly. "What're you doing here?"

"You know each other?" Thompkins asked.

Gordon nodded. "Yeah, we do." He grabbed a beer from his fridge and took a long drink from it.

"So?" Bruce asked. "Is Gar okay?"

Gordon sighed. "I'm sorry, Bruce. He's not gonna make it."

Bruce felt a knife go straight through his heart. He looked at Gordon with nothing but shock and hurt. "You said that you'd help him!" he protested.

"I tried, Bruce. I tried," Gordon told him. "But he didn't wanna go quietly." He took a deep breath. "I think he wanted it to end this way."

Bruce raised his gun to Gordon's forehead and told him, "Give me one good reason not to blow your brains out."

Gordon raised his hands into the air. "Bruce, I know you're hurting but please calm down…"

No. He was too far gone to calm down. Bruce flipped the gun around and swung the butt of the pistol into Gordon's temple, putting him on the ground. He aimed the pistol down at him and screamed, "I trusted you! You lied to me!"

"Bruce…I'm sorry, it just went a different way," Gordon started.

"SHUT UP!" Bruce demanded. "SHUT! UP!"

Thompkins stepped in between them and Bruce raised the pistol to her forehead. "Bruce, please stop. Selina wouldn't want you to do this."

That was all he could take. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. He hadn't cried in front of people since he was five, but he couldn't take any more pain.

Bruce's knees buckled and he screamed.

The two adults watched on in shock as the mask of Bruce Kyle broke.

Bruce didn't care. This was all he could take. This was his breaking point. He looked up at Gordon, tears pooling in his eyes, and told him, "I'm done talking to you. I should've never trusted a cop…" He aims the gun at Gordon and tells him, "I swear on my life, if I ever see you again, I'll kill you. You hear me, Gordon?" he choked out.

Gordon nodded.

Bruce grit his teeth and rose to his feet, keeping his gun trained on Gordon the whole time.

He turned and walked out of the apartment, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

* * *

He didn't know how he ended up sitting on the edge of a rooftop. He looked down at the pavement, ten stories below. He made no effort to stop crying, he didn't want to. He deserved to feel this pain.

What would happen if they found him down there, dead? Would Gordon get arrested for influencing a suicide?

He scoffed bitterly. Probably not.

Hell, he doubted anyone would even care.

Gordon had betrayed him.

Alfred hated him.

Zee wouldn't talk to him.

Floyd would abandon him in a heartbeat.

Garfield, who Bruce had neglected for years even though he was being abused, was dead.

And Selina…she was better off without him in her life.

No one needed him.

So why keep fighting?

What was the point?

Would Gotham be a better place without him?

He looked down at the gun in his hand. It'd be quick. Easy, even.

…

…

…

Bruce dropped the gun behind him.

No.

He'd beat the Narrows.

He'd beat Gotham, even if it killed him.

That was his purpose. That was why he kept fighting.

He couldn't quit now, he'd lost too much, fought too long.

He wouldn't just survive Gotham, he'd defeat it.

But most of all, he couldn't leave her. Selina may've been better off without him, but he wasn't better off without her.

And there was no way in hell that some random rich-kid was gonna take her from him.

 **A/N: So, that was a really long chapter (at least by my standards). I really wanted to give you guys a Christmas upload but I kept procrastinating so I ended up writing this whole thing in a four-hour sitting again, which is a really bad habit of mine but oh well. This chapter was especially difficult to write since I personally don't enjoy this arc, but there were a few really big moments in this chapter and having something to work towards made it easier. Anyways, thanks for reading and if you have any questions/comments/critiques, please review! Hope you enjoyed and until next time, ciao for now!**

 **Also: next chapter will** _ **finally**_ **be some BrucexSelina interactions. It's been way too long.**


	17. Sterling St Cloud

**A/N: Okay, this is another chapter that I've been looking forward to since I started this project, so I'm super excited to finally publish it! The chapter picks up right after the last one, so if you missed the previous upload make sure to read it first! Now, without further ado here's Chapter 17! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Sterling St. Cloud**

Selina had had a really good evening with the Galavan's the night prior. She'd had a family dinner with them, something she had no idea she'd been missing.

She had mostly talked with Sterling about school stuff, but Tabitha, his aunt, was really cool too. A couple of times, Selina and Tabitha teamed up on Sterling to make fun of him. Sterling would just laugh right along with them good-naturedly. Galavan himself would shake his head disapprovingly but with a smile, occasionally telling Tabitha to lighten up on the kid.

They all seemed so happy together; it made Selina long for what she was missing at home.

Alfred was great, but he just wasn't the same as her parents.

It was an all around great night.

However, the highlight of the evening came when Tabitha and Sterling excused themselves to clean up the dishes.

Galavan had told her, "I'm glad we have a moment alone. There is something I need to discuss." That normally would've set off some alarm with Selina, but she trusted Galavan. She nodded for him to go on and he told her quietly, "An executive at Wayne Enterprises has been reported missing. Sid Bunderslaw…"

Selina's heart clenched up in her chest.

"Do you know him?" Galavan asked.

Selina took a deep breath and replied, "Yes. We've met several times." She paused. "What happened?"

"No one knows," Galavan told her, lowering his voice even more. "But it doesn't look good."

"How did you hear?" Selina asked him.

"Let's just say I have friends in high places," Galavan replied vaguely. "And I've been following the goings-on at Wayne Enterprises very closely."

"What have you learned?" Selina asked.

"That your father was a good man. A great man, even. But in spite of that, bad things happened at his company," Galavan said gravely.

Selina stared into the fireplace next to them, carefully picking out her next words. "Unfortunately," she started slowly, "I think you're right."

"I can tell you've become very mature for your age," Galavan told her. "Ready to tackle the problems of your company head-on. But you'll need help. Once I'm mayor, I would very much like to be that person."

Selina looked up at the man. She knew he was a politician, this was his job: convince people that he had nothing but good-intentions. But he seemed so genuine…

"Thank you, Mr. Galavan. I appreciate it," Selina said.

Galavan nodded and stuck out his hand. Selina shook it. Now, she had one more ally, and a powerful one at that.

* * *

Bruce, on the other hand, had just _lost_ his most powerful ally.

He didn't hear about the whole thing until the next morning. Penguin, Gilzean, and a couple of goons had raided some shipping yard at the southern pier. Then, everything had gone bad. Really, really bad.

All Bruce knew was that Penguin's mother was dead, Penguin was injured but escaped, and Gilzean was nowhere to be found.

In one foul swoop of a night, he'd lost Garfield, Gordon had betrayed him, Bruce nearly shot Gordon, Bruce nearly shot himself, and then to top it all off: Penguin had lost control of the Narrows.

Bruce didn't dare stay in the Narrows. He had a good reputation in the Gotham Underworld, but Penguin sure as hell did, and now that he was gone…

Bruce crossed Gotham via rooftop, arriving at the northernmost bridge that went upstate. He needed to visit a friend.

His _only_ friend, really.

The window was unlocked like always. Alfred had all but given up on keeping him out by now.

Inside, the television was on. A reporter said, "It is official. Theo Galavan will be the Mayor of Gotham. A crowd had gathered outside and the excitement is brimming."

Standing in front of the television was none other than Selina Wayne herself.

She switched off the TV and turned to him, jokingly asking, "What do you have against the front door?"

"Nothing," Bruce replied simply, tracing a finger along the back of a couch. "It's the ape who opens it who I could live without."

Selina shook her head. "I haven't seen you in…" She shook her head. "Bruce, what are you doing here?"

Bruce's eyes dropped to the floor, refusing to meet hers. "You wouldn't believe the week I've had," he told her, his voice accidentally cracking at the end. "This friend of mine, Garfield, decided to build this fire suit…"

Selina glanced behind her nervously and started, "Bruce…"

"Some people just don't…" Bruce trailed off, noticing a suit jacket thrown carelessly over the back of a nearby chair. It was too small for Alfred and it was clearly a men's jacket… "Whose is that?" Bruce asked.

Just about that time, Bruce heard heavy footsteps approaching the room.

They weren't Alfred's.

"Sorry, Selina, I got lost on the way back from…"

Bruce's radar went on high alert. What the hell was _he_ doing here?

The other boy looked at Bruce confusedly. "Hello," he said, walking up close next to Selina.

Too close.

Sterling St. Cloud.

That son of a…"Hi," Bruce replied in fake boredom, as if he'd planned the whole situation.

They looked at Selina, both clearly wanting her to give an explanation for what the other boy was doing there. Her cheeks were beet red. "Sterling St. Cloud, this is my…friend, Bruce," she stuttered out. "Bruce, this is Sterling."

Bruce knew well and good who Sterling was. He was the punk who'd been walking Selina to her car.

Sterling smiled at Bruce warmly, too warmly. He stuck out his hand. Bruce took it.

And that's when the games began.

Bruce didn't initially squeeze down hard on Sterling's hand. It was actually Sterling who started the fight. He had a firm grip; Bruce would give him that. Unfortunately for Sterling, he had no idea who he was messing with. He was the little brother of Ted Grant, for God's sake. Bruce applied more and more pressure, eventually causing Sterling's hand to go limp in surrender. Yet the kid didn't flinch in the slightest, giving no recognition that the silent competition was occurring.

The entire battle had only lasted two seconds, but Bruce got a feeling that Sterling St. Cloud was more than he seemed.

This was gonna be interesting.

"It's nice to meet you," Sterling told him, still smiling even though he must've been in serious pain.

Bruce smiled back as warmly as he could, "You too."

They dropped their hands. Sterling asked, "So, what are you doing here, Bruce?"

"Actually," Selina piped up, her voice squeaking at first, "Bruce was just le-"

"Coming to have lunch," Bruce interrupted, giving her his most dashing smile. He turned to Sterling and told him, "We should eat together."

Sterling smiled back at him, exclaiming, "That's a great idea! I just moved here and I don't have many friends…"

"What a shock," Bruce muttered under his breath, too low for either of them to hear.

Sterling turned to Selina and asked, "Could you have Alfred set out another plate for lunch?" She looked at Sterling, then at Bruce, and then back at Sterling, clearly trying to piece together some way for her to escape this horrible fate. Both boys simply smiled at her.

She slowly nodded and left the room, probably very worried about what was to come.

The two boys stood there silently, smiling at each other as they listened to her footsteps disappear down the hall.

Sterling's smile dropped. He sneered at Bruce and got up in his face, saying, "I don't know who you are, but if you know what's best for you, you'll turn around and go right back out that window before you get hurt."

Bruce smiled near-devilishly. "I knew there was something underneath all that. Where you from?"

Sterling glared at him. "I don't think you heard me, so I'll give you one more chance. Walk away right now."

Bruce scoffed. "You know, that was actually pretty good, for a rich kid. But…" Bruce whipped out his knife and held the tip to Sterling's left side. "You really need to work on your intimidation tactics. You just aren't a very scary looking person…"

Just about then, Selina walked back into the room.

"I told Alfred…" she paused, noticing the knife being held at Sterling's side. "What're you doing?" she asked apprehensively.

They both smiled at her, Bruce saying, "I was just showing Sterling my favorite knife."

"And I was telling him that I have one just like it, although mines bigger," Sterling finished.

Bruce chuckled mirthlessly.

Selina looked between them, clearly confused. She just nodded in bewilderment and went to sit down.

Sterling reacted first, scoring the seat next to her. Bruce smiled calmly, showing that he wasn't fazed, and sat atop the couch opposite them.

Alfred came in a few moments later. He glanced warily at Bruce before setting a tray of sandwiches down on the coffee table. He looked at Selina and said, "I had no idea we were entertaining today, Miss Wayne."

"Yeah," Bruce started, taking a sandwich from the tray. "Surprises sure do punch you in the face sometimes, don't they, Alfred?" Bruce asked pointedly. He took a bite of his sandwich as Alfred glared at him icily.

Sterling and Selina both took sandwiches as well. Bruce noticed that Sterling initially reached out with his right hand (the hand that he'd shaken), winced, and then took the sandwich in his left. He took some kind of sick joy in that.

Selina looked between the Bruce and Alfred confusedly. "Thank you, Alfred," she said. "That will be all."

"My pleasure, Miss Wayne, Mr. St. Cloud," Alfred replied, his eyes glued on Bruce the whole time. He bustled off, leaving the doors open behind him.

Bruce put his sandwich down and started, "So, Sterling, how old are you?"

Sterling wiped his mouth politely and replied, "Thirteen. Going on fourteen in January. What about you?"

Bruce shrugged. "Thirteen, fourteen in February."

Sterling smirked and told him, "Before you showed up, I was telling Selina about my past few years abroad. My sister and I went all over, helping out needy countries, building schools, you know…"

"The norm," Bruce agreed offhandedly.

"Exactly. It's just, the eyes of those kids, the gratitude, it made it all worth it."

"There're plenty of needy kids in Gotham," Bruce said. "Why go so far?"

Sterling smiled at him mirthlessly, unable to respond.

A point to Bruce.

Sterling apparently decided to go on the attack, asking, "So Bruce, where're you from?"

"Gotham," Bruce replied.

"Were you born here?" Sterling asked. Bruce nodded, not entirely sure where Sterling was going with this topic. "So was I," Sterling told him. Bruce knew there was gonna be some big twist sometime soon. "My parents were big-time business owners, kind of like Selina's. What did yours do?" he asked.

There it is.

Bruce shrugged. "Never met my dad and my mom left when I was five. I live with my uncle and cousin, now," he said. Henry wasn't actually his uncle. It was just the excuse he gave anyone who asked.

"Where do you go to school?" Sterling asked.

"I don't," Bruce told him.

"What?"

"I'm a street kid," Bruce said. "I don't go to school. It's a waste of time, if you ask me."

Sterling shrugged, patting Selina on the knee and saying, "Well, school is where I met her, so it couldn't be so bad…"

Selina's cheeks flushed a little. Bruce growled under his breath. That was smooth.

A point to Sterling.

"You met at school?" Bruce asked. He turned to Selina for the first time and asked, "When did you stop homeschooling?"

Sterling answered for her, "She's new, just like me. We met a gymnastics practice. She's a total natural, way better than me…"

"Actually, Sterling," Selina interrupted him, "Bruce is the one who taught me most of that."

Bruce smirked at Sterling who shot eye-daggers in return.

Another point to Bruce.

Sterling was about to ask Bruce another question when Selina asked, "Hey, Sterling, could you go ask Alfred to make another round of sandwiches? These don't taste right."

Sterling gave her his most dashing grin and told her, "As you wish," almost making Bruce gag.

Bruce gave him a little smile as he left.

When he was gone, Bruce joked, "I gotta say, Cat, you sure know how to pick 'em."

Selina set her plate down and asked him, "What's up with you?"

Bruce furrowed his brow in fake confusion. "What do you mean? I was having a perfectly pleasant conversation with your new friend. What's wrong with that?"

She apparently wasn't fooled. "Look, Bruce, Sterling is a really nice guy. Try to be friendlier."

Bruce rolled his eyes, muttering, "This is not how I saw today going."

"What had you been expecting, exactly?" Selina asked him.

He shrugged but never got to respond. Sterling walked back in, saying, "Hey, Selina, my uncle called. I have to go." He grabbed his jacket from next to her and then kissed her on the cheek.

Bruce had never rolled his eyes harder in his life. That was a total desperation move if he'd ever seen one.

He turned to Bruce with a victorious smirk and said, "It was really nice meeting you, Bruce."

"You too, Cloud," he replied coolly.

Bruce shook his head as Sterling's footsteps disappeared. "Wow. I don't think I've met a better liar in my entire life," he said in mock awe.

Selina arched her brow, asking, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bruce sighed and told her, "Selina, he's manipulating you. He's just acting all nice to get you to trust him."

He'd never seen Selina get angrier. She stood up and started telling him off, saying, "For starters: you can shut your mouth, Bruce Kyle. Sterling is a real gentleman, more than you've ever been…"

Bruce stood up, raising his hands in surrender and saying, "You know what? I can't do this right now."

"And why is that?" Selina pushed. "Oh right, I forgot who I'm talking to."

Bruce froze. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he groveled, trying to not let his irritation leak into his voice. This was Selina. He was here to fix his relationship with her. Getting into an argument would not help that.

"It means that when life gets hard, when it gets difficult, you run away," she told him, getting right up in his face. "You're a coward."

He stared at her in disbelief, all of his rational thoughts going straight out the window. " _I'm_ the coward?" She nodded. He scoffed. "That's rich. Honestly."

"Are you implying something?" she asked, getting louder now.

"Who kept you safe when those assassins came after you? Huh? Who was the one who stole Bunderslaw's keys right off of him, for you?" Bruce asked. "Who was the one who went after Payne so you didn't have to? Who was the one who saved Alfred's life a few weeks ago?"

"What?" Selina started, but she never got an explanation of the last comment. Bruce was getting hot.

"You have _no idea_ what I've been through!" he told her. "The stuff I'm dealing with…" He huffed. "You know what, I don't have time for your crap, today." He turned and started to march back to the window.

"Maybe you were right," Selina said quietly. He froze, listening with his back turned. "Maybe I'm not the best judge of people. Because all of this time, I thought you were my friend…but clearly you have no idea what that means."

Bruce could've contradicted her. He could've told her all about how he'd shot someone to save Alfred, how he nearly died trying to save Garfield's life, how he'd almost killed a police officer in rage when he'd heard that they'd killed his friend.

But she wasn't worth it.

If she couldn't see the obvious truth, then she didn't deserve to know.

He didn't respond, instead walking straight back to the window and walking out of Selina Wayne's life.

Selina slumped into one of the big armchairs and pulled her knees into her chest.

She felt like crying, but forced herself not to.

He wasn't worth the tears.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Sterling St. Cloud was standing around the corner, listening in on the entire conversation with a smirk.

He was no longer worried about Bruce Kyle interfering with his plans for Selina Wayne.

* * *

Selina knocked on the penthouse door.

Sterling opened it, smiling the second he laid eyes on her. "Hey, Selina."

"Hey, Sterling," she replied. "Can I come in?"

He nodded, opening the door. He closed it behind her and asked, "What's up?"

She glanced at the ground sheepishly and said, "I just wanted to apologize for earlier."

Sterling scoffed good-naturedly and said, "Yeah, your friend is quite the character."

She nodded, agreeing, "Don't I know it. I didn't know that he was coming by or I would've…"

"Hey, Selina, it's fine. I'm sorry I put you in such an awkward situation. It wasn't fair to you," he told her earnestly. "I should've left earlier. Bruce obviously didn't want me there."

She shook her head, "No, you were fine. Bruce was just acting…I don't know. He isn't usually like that."

Sterling nodded. "He was probably just felt threatened."

"Threatened?" she asked.

"Yeah, well…I probably would've felt threatened, too, if, you know, one of my friends was hanging out with someone else." He glanced at his feet and told her, "I actually felt threatened, too. I'd felt pretty alone when I first moved here." He looked up at her, his cheeks dusted pink, "Until I met you. But…I don't want to come between you and a friend."

"You won't," Selina assured.

He sighed. "Bruce is never going to like me."

She reached out and took his hand. "I don't care," she told him. She felt her own cheeks flush. "I like you."

Then Sterling kissed her.

It was…interesting. She didn't mean to compare it to her kiss with Bruce, but she did. Something was just…different.

But was different really so bad?

* * *

Bruce sat atop the roof of the building opposite, a clear view from his position into the penthouse suite. When Sterling kissed her, he clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth were about to shatter.

Then, the bastard did something even worse. When he hugged her, he glanced off to the side where she couldn't see and rolled his eyes.

Bruce saw red.

Now he knew for certain that he was using her.

He wanted nothing more than to cross the gap, bust through the window, and beat the living hell out of Sterling St. Cloud. But that wasn't the plan. He had to keep a clear mind.

At least, for now.

He'd lie in wait until he could get into the apartment unnoticed.

He'd protect Selina, no matter the cost.

He would find out what was wrong with Sterling St. Cloud, and that meant being patient for the time being.

Although it would still be pretty satisfying to go down there and break his perfect teeth.

 **A/N: So that was a whirlwind of a chapter! Also, I know, three uploads in a week. Don't get used to it ;) I'm on Winter break right now so I have literally nothing else to do and it's awesome! Hopefully I can get a lot more done and start backlogging chapters, since January is gonna be insane for me and I will have basically no time to write.**

 **Also, this chapter has my favorite joke that I've ever written and I hadn't even planned it in the original outline. It just kind of happened. Let me know in the comments which one you think it was.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and if you did or have any questions/comments /critiques, PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	18. Innocent Till Proven

**A/N: Sorry this Chapter is coming out later than I said in my original post, stuff came up and I had no time to write whatsoever. Thank you for your patience, and here's (the long overdue) Chapter 18! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Innocent Till Proven**

Getting into Galavan's apartment proved easy enough for Bruce.

He slipped in through a window and scanned the room. There were several filled bookshelves along one wall, a mahogany desk at another end, and a particular wall was plastered in campaign slogans and pictures of Mr. Galavan smiling and looking all politician-like. It was probably his study, meaning that was most likely where he'd store anything confidential.

Bruce made a beeline for the desk. Unfortunately, all of the drawers were unlocked. Over the years, Bruce had learned that if something wasn't locked, the contents inside probably weren't too important, meaning that there was most likely nothing too controversial hidden within the drawers. However, he did stumble upon a small locked box under a false floor in one of the bottom drawers, but it was a combination lock. Bruce cursed. He'd almost brought a pair of bolt-cutters. He'd literally looked dead at them and thought 'Nah, I won't need those.' Hindsight was 20/20…

For the time being, he chose to forget the box and venture out into the rest of the apartment. As slowly and quietly as possible, he cracked open the door and peered into the dark hallways. The television was blaring downstairs and the light from it cast up into the staircase, spilling out onto the second floor.

Bruce knew he should've kept going, but he had to take a glance downstairs. Selina was down there with Sterling. He had to at least check on her.

His stomach clenched up. Downstairs, Selina and Sterling sat on the couch leaning up against each other. Sterling made a joke and while she laughed, he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

The things Bruce would do if he got his hands on Sterling St. Cloud…

But, that wasn't the mission. He'd get his shot at Sterling, just not yet. Sterling was manipulating Selina and Bruce had to be able to prove it, or she wouldn't believe him.

So, for her sake, Bruce tore his eyes away from the downstairs living room and crept down the hall.

He found another unlocked door and crept inside. It was clearly Sterling's room. School books were messily strewn about, there was a dust-covered guitar in the corner, and the bed was only half-made. Bruce made his way to Sterling's desk. He rummaged through it, but found nothing of interest, just old school-papers, a passport, a few pocket-knives (none of which were larger than Bruce's switchblade), and a couple of books.

Bruce glanced at the trash can next to the desk and something stuck out to him. Along with used tissues and candy wrappers, there was a piece of paper that looked old. Like really, really old, almost more like parchment. Bruce gingerly lifted it out of the bin and unfolded it.

It was too dark in the room to read most of it, even with his keen night-vision, but Bruce was able to make out that the sender's name was a Father Creel.

Maybe Sterling was Catholic?

Was that something he could use against him?

Probably not.

He looked at the heading. It was addressed to a Mister…

Bruce froze.

Footsteps were shuffling around down stairs. A few seconds later, he heard the front door slam. Selina had probably just left.

Bruce folded up the paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He needed to get out of there, too.

Bruce crept out of the bedroom and silently closed the door. He made his way back down the hall and into Galavan's study where he slipped out of the window.

He hit the streets. He knew what he had to do next…and he wasn't looking forward to it.

Bruce needed to ask an old friend for a favor, but in order to do that, he had to find him, first.

* * *

"I want to ask you a question," Galavan started. He'd requested Selina to come over to their apartment for a discussion. Sterling had told her that he apparently had something for her and that he'd seemed really excited about it. Naturally, Selina was curious, so she'd agreed. Galavan continued, "If you could have one dream come true, what would it be?"

Selina's stomach dropped. She had an answer instantly, but could she say it out loud? No. Not here, not with him. Instead, she opted for a half-truth. "I would have the police catch the man who killed my parents."

"The police?" Galavan asked, seeming surprised.

Selina swallowed and nodded. He seemed to see right through her. "Yes. I would see him tried and imprisoned, that's what he deserves," she responded robotically.

"And…" Galavan started, "what would you do if _you_ found him?"

Selina grit her teeth and responded sharply, "Like I said, I'd see him arrested and tried."

Galavan hummed in acknowledgement, saying, "My dream? I would save this city. I would rid Gotham of corruption, crime and poverty."

Selina scoffed quietly and responded, "That sounds good. But how would you do that?"

Galavan smiled almost mischievously and said, "Oh, I have plans, schemes, ideas aplenty. But I need help. I need your help," he told her.

She nodded curtly. "Of course." She knew this was going to lead to some big twist, something he wanted from her. And given his question earlier about her parents, she had a faint idea of what he was planning to offer in return.

Sure enough, he continued, "And perhaps, in return, I could help you with your dream."

Bingo.

"How so?" Selina asked, trying to keep her face void of emotion.

Galavan chuckled and stepped back behind his desk, saying, "Selina, your family helped build this city. The Wayne name is synonymous with growth, strength and prosperity." He removed a file from a locked box in the desk and continued, "It's also a lie."

Selina raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Please explain what you mean."

He told her, "I've been investigating Wayne Enterprises for quite some time." He sighed. "I found toxic waste dumps, illegal weapons contracts, use of banned chemicals, nightmarish experiments. It can't continue. Please understand, this isn't about corruption. It's about saving innocent lives."

Selina stared at him in shock. Apparently he knew more about her company than she did… "You have my word," Selina told him, "I will look into all of it. And I will stop whoever's responsible."

Galavan sighed. "No, Selina, you won't. You can't."

Selina scoffed and leaned forwards on her elbows. "People often underestimate me," she told him.

"Wayne Enterprises is a multi-billion dollar conglomerate with a board that will kill to protect its secrets," Galavan told her in monotone. He leaned forwards as well and asked, "Who's underestimating who?"

"Why are you telling me this? You obviously have a solution you want to propose?" she asked eloquently.

Galavan chuckled and nodded. "You control 51% of the voting shares of Wayne Enterprises," he told her. "If you sell me your shares, I could take control. Do what needs to be done. You would be a cash billionaire with freedom."

Selina arched her eyebrows as high as they could go. "You want my company?" she asked.

"I want to clean of Gotham," Galavan corrected her. "Protect its citizens. Return this city to what it was. But I can't do it without your help."

Selina stared a hole in the floor, piecing together her response. Finally, she looked Galavan dead in the eye and told him, "Wayne Enterprises is my responsibility. It's all I have left of them."

"I'm not just offering you money, Selina," Galavan told her. She tilted her head to the side in curiosity as he set a sealed folder down in front of her. "The night your parents were killed, you weren't supposed to be there, were you?" he asked.

Selina shook her head. "No."

"Your parents were headed for the theater. Your father changed his mind, suggested a movie. Invited you along. You got there late."

Selina paled. She stuttered, "I've never told anybody that."

"He was following your father that night. Before the alleyway." Selina's heart was racing now, she could hear her pulse in her ears. Galavan had her hooked to every word. "I'm a man of considerable resources and, even then, it took some doing. That's why I didn't want to say anything last night. I couldn't confirm it until today. If you sell me your company," he placed his hand on the folder, "I will give you this as a signing gift. This is the name of the man who killed your parents." Selina's heart dropped down to her feet. "With documentary proof. Accomplices, motives, why, how, and who. I will fix your company, protect your legacy, and give you closure. It's what your father would've wanted. And what Gotham desperately needs."

She looked up at him in disbelief, and then back down at the folder.

Two years of work trying to find out who killed her parents and the answer had been sitting in a folder in front of her for over two minutes. She wanted to reach out and sell the company right then and there, consequences be damned, but something held her back.

When she didn't immediately agree, Galavan took the folder back and told her, "I need your answer by the end of the day."

* * *

Hours later, Selina sat in the secret room below the Manor in a daze, reading her father's final address to her over and over again.

She didn't realize that Alfred had been yelling her name until he entered the room, exasperatedly saying, "Oh, there you are, Miss Wayne. Been looking all over the gaff for you." He glanced around the room and commented, "Bit dreary down here, isn't it? Fancy something to eat?" he asked.

She never moved her eyes from the letter.

Alfred finally realized something was wrong and asked, "What's up?"

"I need to ask you a question," Selina told him. "And I need your word that you're gonna be honest with me."

"I always am," Alfred replied all-too-quickly. Selina raised an eyebrow and Alfred sighed. "All right, you have my word."

"Two years…we've been researching Wayne Enterprises for _two years_ and found _nothing_. You promised you'd help me, so tell me: how long do you think it will take?"

"Well, there's no set timeline. Doesn't really work like that, does it?"

"Alfred, a year? Two years? Five?"

"Well, like I said, it might take a lot longer than that for you to become the woman that taking on something like this requires. But you will get there. I promise you that."

"Yeah, well how many will suffer in the meantime?" Selina asked. "How many will die because of the crimes committed by my family's company?"

Alfred stuttered in surprise. He sat down across from her and asked, "Where is all this coming from, Miss Wayne, eh?"

Selina stood up from the desk and turned away from Alfred. "I spoke to Mayor Galavan this morning."

"And?" Alfred asked.

"He wants me to sell him my shares in Wayne Enterprises so he can fix the company, clean up Gotham."

Alfred leaned up against the desk and nodded. "I see…and what aren't you telling me?"

Selina stared at the floor. "He says…that he knows the identity of the man who killed my parents."

Alfred nodded. "Which he's offering in return for the company, right?"

Selina turned away again. "Yes."

"Yeah, well, that's not an offer, is it? That's bloody extortion."

"Yeah, well, I can't help but consider it, Alfred," Selina retorted.

"Well you shouldn't," he countered.

"It's just negotiation," Selina told him.

"There's a fine line between extortion and negotiation."

Selina shook her head. "My parents were killed because of the corruption that my father was trying to stop. When they died, so did that line. And as of now, their deaths have been in vain because I wasn't willing to cross it. But if Mayor Galavan can truly..." her bottom lip started to uncontrollably quiver, but she pushed on, "if he can truly fix Wayne Enterprises, isn't it my moral duty to allow him to do so?" she asked, finally looking at Alfred with tears welling in her eyes. "For my father's legacy?" she added.

"Wayne Enterprises isn't Thomas and Martha Wayne's legacy," he told her, standing up straight and looking her in the eye. "That legacy is standing right here."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Selina choked out through sobs, "Alfred, am I wrong if I just want it all to be over? I just want… I just want it to be over."

Alfred shook his head, "No, no. No, you're not wrong. Come here," he said, holding his arms out. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.

* * *

A few more hours later, Selina was in an elegant black dress and suit jacket, sitting across from Galavan with a contract between them.

"All the papers seem to be in order," Selina told him after reading over the whole packet for the last five minutes. One thing her father had taught her: always read your own contracts, especially in Gotham.

"You're making the right decision," Galavan told her. "Sign and the file is yours," he told her, nodding to the folder next to his hand in which, supposedly, the name of her parent's killer was written. She stared at the papers in her hands.

It was almost ironic.

She had to write her name on a _line_ to finish the deal. In order to end all of this, she had to cross a line…and there it was.

She clicked open her pen and placed the tip to the paper.

She paused.

This was it, all that she'd worked for for two whole years.

All the sleepless nights avenged.

Every waking moment that she'd missed her parents.

All she had to do was write her name.

She started slowly, her hand shaking slightly.

S-e-l-i…

"Alfred!" a familiar, gruff voice yelled into the room, "get Selina away from him, now!"

Alfred moved quickly, grabbing Selina and pulling her away from the table as a SWAT team moved in. "Detective Gordon?" Selina asked in shock, but Gordon ignored her.

"You're under arrest!" he told Galavan, charging him and throwing a punch to the man's nose.

Galavan seemed to be even more shocked than Selina. Blood rushing from his nose, he spluttered out, "May I ask what the charge is?"

"The kidnapping and torture of Aubrey James," Gordon responded in a tone of satisfaction." He nodded to his partner, Bullock, and ordered, "Cuff him." Gordon and an entourage of cops escorted him out of the room.

Selina eventually recovered from her shock and whipped around to look at the table.

The document was gone. "Where…" she started, searching all around the desk for it.

She looked to her right where the fireplace was blazing brighter than before.

Her stomach dropped and she sank to her knees.

In the fireplace burned the muted orange folder, along with the contents inside.

Everything she had worked for: gone.

All the pain she'd been through: wasted.

And it was Jim Gordon's fault.

* * *

Selina crept into her father's study, cautiously scanning the room before entering. Earlier that day, she'd invited Sterling over for lunch to discuss a deal: she provides legal aid to Sterling's uncle, Sterling finds out the name of her parent's killer. Then Alfred had to butt in and kick Sterling out, but not before Sterling had slipped her a note with the address of where he was now staying.

Finally, she may have gotten a chance to escape. Alfred was across the house preparing dinner and she'd 'gotten caught trying to break out' only five minutes earlier. She'd let him think that he'd caught her and then huffed and stormed off like a stereotypical teenage girl would, and then slammed her bedroom door shut, but from the outside. She probably had about five to ten minutes before Alfred went to check on her and find her missing, so she had to act quickly.

She made a beeline for the balcony window, which was always unlocked. She took hold of the curtains and were about to open them when they ripped open on their own. She gasped and let out a strangled scream in surprise.

Standing there was none other than Bruce Kyle, himself. He had a curious smirk on his face that she normally would've loved. Right now though, she was pissed at him.

"Sneaking out to see your boyfriend, huh?" he asked sarcastically, taking a few steps inside the room, and leaning up against one of the couches.

"Bruce…" she started, anger flaring up in her chest at his nonchalant attitude. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Bruce scoffed. "Saving you from making a big mistake." Selina rolled her eyes and Bruce told her, "Sterling is bad news, Cat."

For some reason, him calling her Cat got her even angrier. She grit her back teeth and retorted, "You've said that before…"

"This time, I have proof," Bruce countered, seeming earnest. "You interested?"

She wasn't buying it. "Oh, yeah?" she asked, putting on an expression of exasperation and boredom. "Like what?"

"Well, for starters," Bruce said, tossing her the file he was holding, "his name isn't Sterling St. Cloud. It's Jean-Paul Valley, and he's an assassin."

 **A/N: Dun-dun-dun! The plot thickens...I hope you enjoyed and if you have any comments/questions/critiques about the story (or one of my many other projects) please make sure to review!**

 **I'd like to give a MASSIVE thank you to** _ **thedoctor11th**_ **for suggesting I use the name Jean-Paul Valley! I would've never come up with that on my own and using that name gives me a ton of possible future story arcs, but that'll have to wait for another time ;) I think they really messed up the Azrael story arc in** _ **Gotham**_ **, so I'll probably make some changes to that using Jean/Sterling.**

 **Also, I didn't post a Night-of-Episode-Oneshot this week (5x02) like I normally do after the episode airs because I was away on Thursday and Friday and wasn't able to watch the episode until Saturday (which meant completely avoiding Instagram and YouTube for two days in fear of spoilers). Plus I was already behind on this project and I didn't think it was worth pushing off this chapter any longer.**

 **One more thing: I've meant for Selina's overarching, ongoing investigation into Wayne Enterprises to be a given throughout the series so I didn't have to dedicate filler chapters of the story to just depicting her research, or in canon's case: Bruce's training. I felt like I didn't communicate that enough, especially since almost every chapter so far in Season 2 had been very Bruce-Kyle-centric, and Selina hasn't gotten nearly as much time or development to herself until just now in this chapter. That will be changing** _ **a lot**_ **, especially with the next couple of chapters as the 'Son of Gotham' (or in this case, Daughter of Gotham) event takes place. Also, in the next few chapters I'm gonna double-down on the differences between my own Selina Wayne and Gotham's canon Bruce Wayne, because they are not the same person (of which I teased in this chapter a little), not by a long shot.**

 **And this also might be my last post for another week or so. I'm just getting back into school and I had to miss on Thursday and Friday so I'm _way way_ behind. Make sure to follow so you'll get notified because I have no idea when I'll have another chance to write. (I literally have two math assignments due tomorrow that I haven't even started yet but whatever, this was totally worth it)**

 **I think I covered everything. If you made it this far, thanks! So, in conclusion: Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	19. Lies, Laughs, and Lacerations

**A/N: I'm so hyped for this one! Idk when this will come out, but at the time I'm writing it we're** _ **so close**_ **to a triple-digit review count, which is something I've never done before. I also recently realized that I'm not even halfway through Season 2 yet and I've almost matched the Chapter count for the entirety of Season 1…**

 **Anyways, here's Chapter 19! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Lies, Laughs, and Lacerations**

"Selina, are you sure about this?" Bruce asked apprehensively. Granted, he'd asked her the same question about half a dozen times in the past twelve hours or so, and every time her answer had been the same, but still… "This guy is a world-class liar and killer from a family of world-class liars and killers. He'll see through you. Or his uncle will…"

"Both very possible," Selina agreed, staring across the courtyard as limousines and Lamborghini's turned into Anders Prep's student drop-off line.

"And?" Bruce pushed. He hated this plan. It wasn't going to work, and even if it did it put her immediately in harm's way. He had tried to convince her to let him do it all, but no _._ For some reason, she seemed to think that she had to be the one to trick the assassin. He sighed. "Selina, they're playing nice because they think you trust them. Once they see you don't, it'll get ugly fast."

Selina nodded. "You're probably right, B."

Bruce shook his head. "It's not too late. You don't have to get directly involved…"

"If there's even a chance Galavan knows who killed my parents, I have to take it," Selina told him, her voice a little harsher than she'd intended. She sheepishly turned back to the drop-off line and said, "I told Alfred I have gymnastics practice after school. It should buy us some time if we need it."

Bruce opened his mouth to try and tell her off again, but decided it wasn't worth it. She was as stubborn as he was. "Hey," he said, waiting for her to look at him before continuing. "The best liars always tell the truth," he advised. "Something to remember."

She nodded. "Thank you." She glanced back across the courtyard and spied a familiar limousine pulling in. "That's his car. You should–" she stopped, seeing that Bruce was already halfway up the adjacent tree which would serve as his hiding place.

* * *

"Your uncle made me an offer," Selina told Sterling. "The name of my parents' killer in exchange for selling him my shares in Wayne Enterprises…" She mentally prepared herself to lie and told him, "I said no." Given his lack of a reaction, he seemed to believe her. Truthfully, had Gordon not busted in when he did… "But circumstances had changed," she continued, which was true.

"You're going to sell?" Sterling asked.

Selina shook her head, "No."

"Then–" he started, but she interrupted.

"Your uncle was arrested and his assets are frozen. Tell him I'll pay for his defense. In exchange, he gives me the name."

Sterling furrowed his brow. "You're taking advantage of him," he said, hurt and shock evident in his voice and expression.

Selina didn't buy it. "I have something he needs, he has something I need. That's all," she told him.

Sterling shook his head. "Do you believe what people are saying about him?"

"I don't care what people say," Selina responded, which, again, was true. "My father was investigating Wayne Enterprises, then he and my mother were killed. Last year, I investigated Wayne Enterprises, and someone tried to kill Alfred. Either I find out who killed my parents and stop whatever's happening at my own company, or I'm dead…" she said, her voice purposefully cracking at the end. "I need that name," she told him sincerely.

"The grand jury hearing is today. He's going to be cleared," Sterling stated.

"What if he's not?" Selina interjected. "What then?"

Bruce was watching down on her from above, his jaw nearly touching the floor in surprise. Damn, she was good at lying.

"Sterling," Selina continued, "get him to tell you the name, and I will make sure he has the best defense money can buy. I promise."

"You think he's guilty," Sterling observed. "Why would you believe anything he says?"

"Because it would be from you," Selina responded. Sterling blinked a few times, his eyes eventually dropping to the ground. Clearly he hadn't been expecting that. Selina leaned in, placing her hand on his. "If you bring me the name, I'll know it's real."

She paused, then leaned into his ear and told him something Bruce couldn't make out. But whatever it was, Bruce knew he didn't like it. What he would do for a shot at Sterling St. Cloud… or Jean-Paul Valley. He'd take either right now.

After a few seconds, Selina leaned away and Sterling looked a little bit shocked. "Do you mean that?" he asked hoarsely.

In response, Selina leaned in again, but this time she kissed him.

Bruce squeezed down on a branch so hard, it snapped. Luckily, Sterling was too 'distracted' to notice.

Selina pulled away after a few seconds and Sterling stuttered out, "I-I'll call you after I talk to him."

The school bell began to ring as Sterling took his bag and left.

"Well, no turning back now," Bruce muttered. "You still gotta get the name," he called down to her.

"I will," she said exasperatedly. "I'm late for school."

She started to walk away but Bruce called, "Cat!" bringing her to a halt. "Be careful," he warned.

She nodded and walked off towards Anders Prep. He watched her go, paying special attention as she passed a dirty, old grey van parked on the side of the road. She passed by with no trouble, not a care in the world.

When she safely reached the front steps of the school, Bruce dropped down from his hiding spot and made his way towards the vehicle.

The bait had been set, and all he could do now was wait.

* * *

The car came to a screeching halt in front of Sterling. He looked up in surprise, and then the back door slid open. His eyes widened in shock at the sight. Selina was sitting in the van, hands bound together and mouth covered in duct tape, tears streaming down her face as she let out muffled screams for help. A man was holding her down and another was twirling a knife around. The man with the knife shushed him. He had two long scars on his face which stretched from the corners of his mouth to his cheekbones, giving him a gruesome appearance. He warned Sterling, "Don't scream. Don't run. Just get in, or we kill the girl."

Selina screamed out through her gag, "No! Please!" and Sterling quickly nodded, climbing into the back seat of the car.

Something hard hit him in the back of the head, and everything went black.

The last thing Sterling remembered before falling unconscious was the person who'd hit him ordering, "Go," and the driver stepping on the gas. Why was his voice so familiar?

He came to in a very different place than where he'd fallen unconscious. They were in the middle of an old warehouse. Sunlight was shining in through the darkened windows, raising the otherwise concrete room to a blistering temperature.

He heard Selina sob next to him and whipped around. She was zip-tied to a metal chair, just like he was. "Selina, are you okay?" he asked. "What happened?"

Just then, an old wooden door at the other end of the room creaked open. From the darkness emerged the man who'd threatened him and Selina.

The man yawned, as if kidnapping kids and taking them to undisclosed locations was a normal part of his lifestyle.

"You have one chance. You let us go…" Sterling threatened.

The man stepped right up to him and smacked him hard across the face, the sound of it echoing around the room.

Selina gasped and let out a small sob. Sterling clenched his jaw and turned back to the man with his chin held high. The man stuck a finger in his face and growled, "You talk when I tell you to. Understand?" Sterling gave no response so the man continued, "Now, so you know, we are outside the city, and there is absolutely no one to hear you scream. Except me."

"You work for the people inside Wayne Enterprises," Sterling guessed. "Whoever's paying you–"

SMACK!

Sterling breathed heavily as stars began to swim in his eyes. "Again," the man started, "you talk when I tell you to." He turned to Selina and continued, "Now, my employers have heard that you are thinking of selling your company shares to the uncle of this one," gesturing to Sterling. "That's not good," he stated, "but not why we're here. The issue is someone's been nosing into the deaths of Thomas and poor Martha Wayne. And I wonder who. Mmm…" He smiled to himself. "Kidding, we know it was blondie's uncle," he said, nodding to Sterling. "So, I've been tasked to find out what dear old uncle told little Selina Wayne."

"Nothing!" Sterling told him. "My uncle didn't tell me anything!"

The man hit him again, this time with a closed fist.

"You think that I won't hurt you because you're a kid or because you're you?" the man asked him. "If that were true, then how'd that work out for her mommy and daddy?" he lulled, pointing at Selina. He straightened up his suit and announced, "There're billions at stake here. And that's with a 'B.'"

"Do what you want to me, I don't know anything," Sterling told him.

"Okay. So, we start with the girl."

"You touch her, and I swear!" Sterling started.

The man smirked. "Yeah? I've been threatened by the best, kid. You, well, not exactly terrifying." He reached into his coat pocket and said, "Now let me tell you how this is going to go," he flipped open a switchblade, brandishing it for them both to see. "In a minute, I'm gonna take one of you into the back and start cutting off your fingers. And you're gonna talk. I've been doing this a very, very long time, and everyone talks." Selina started sobbing again. "So unless you're really into wearing mittens, this is your last chance. What does Theo Galavan know?"

Selina looked at Sterling pleadingly, tears streaming down her face as she shook in fear. Sterling looked back at her, offering no response to the man's question.

Their interrogator waited for a moment and then sighed. "Okeydokey." He walked up behind Selina, grabbed onto the back of her chair, and announced, "Let's go."

"No, no, no!" Sterling protested in desperation. He pulled against his restraints which dug into his wrists.

Selina screamed. "Please, Sterling! Sterling, you have to tell him. I'll hold my side of the deal. I promise," she begged. "Please, please. I promise!"

Sterling grit his teeth, tears starting to form in his own eyes, now. "But my uncle didn't tell me anything…"

"But…you left me a message," Selina responded, "after school."

"I was supposed to keep you busy till this evening. He's sure he's going to be freed," Sterling told her, "then he'll convince you to sell your company. I'm sorry, Selina. I don't know anything."

"Really?" the man asked boredly.

"I don't!" Sterling pleaded.

He sighed. "That's a pity," he said, resuming his casual walk towards the back room, dragging Selina with him.

"No! No! Please don't! Please!" they both begged, but their pleadings fell on deaf ears.

Selina screamed as the door slammed shut.

* * *

"Whoo!" the man announced as the door opened. It'd been over fifteen minutes, during which the only sound were Selina's screams of terror and agony, then, about a minute ago, they'd abruptly ended. The man walked back into the main room, slamming the door behind him as he wiped off his blade on a blood-stained handkerchief. "Well, if nothing else, today has given me a newfound respect for billionaire brats. Girl's tougher than she looks. Didn't know a damn thing."

"Did you kill her?"

"No. Not yet," he said offhandedly. He noticed Sterling's puzzled expression and asked, "Oh, the screaming? Oh, yeah, I think she passed out. Losing ten fingers'll do that to ya. No, she's not dead. But the rest is kinda up to you…" he lulled, crouching down to Sterling's level.

Sterling took a deep breath and stated, "I told you. My uncle didn't tell me anything."

"Are you gonna stick with that story?" the man asked.

"It's the truth," Sterling pleaded.

The man sighed and told him, "You know what? I don't like you. The Wayne girl, she's got some sap in her. But you… You know when you meet someone and you just don't click? That's the way I feel about you. That's why this is gonna be _so_ much easier."

He got in Sterling's face and raised the knife. "What're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm gonna make sure that you are telling the truth," the man responded, brandishing the tip of the knife a few inches from Sterling's face.

That was when Sterling gave up on his "victim" act.

"Oh, I'd love to see you do something," Sterling threatened. "If you touch me, I'll gut you alive. Every person you love will die screaming by my hand. I've had enough of this. Let me go. Now!"

The man gave him a puzzled expression, and then grinned. "Well, hello! Nice to meet ya! I knew there was someone hiding in there."

"Are you deaf? You have five seconds to let me go!"

"Or what?" the man asked.

Sterling didn't respond. Instead, he raised both of his hands for the man to see, no longer zip-tied.

He launched himself at the man, grabbing onto the knife and shoving it at his throat, missing my mere centimeters. He took another swing, but the man kicked him in the stomach.

Then, he heard the hammer of a pistol clock back just as something was lodged into the back of his head. A new, amused voice lulled, "Unless you want your brains blown out, I'd sit back down." Sterling raised his hands in surrender and slowly returned to his chair. The person with the gun stepped around to his field of view, keeping the gun trained on Sterling's chest the whole time. He was tall and skinny, had shoulder-length, greasy dark hair plastered to his scalp, and wore a wicked smile on his long face. He couldn't have been older than Sterling by a couple of years, but he had large, dark circles under his eyes like he'd lived for an eternity. He chuckled. "Jean, isn't it? I'm Jack."

Sterling's face went pale white. "What…how…who…" he had too many questions.

When he gave no response, the boy called to the back of the room, "That all you wanted, Brucey?"

Bruce? Wait…that voice from earlier…

Shockingly, Bruce Kyle stepped out of the back room. Even more surprisingly, Selina Wayne followed him out, unscathed but looking mad as hell.

Sterling was gob smacked.

Selina walked right up to him, marching past her former 'interrogator' and the tall kid with the gun without the slightest hint of fear.

Sterling started, "Cat–" but never got to finish.

Selina smacked him straight across the face. She smirked in satisfaction, but shook her head. "No, it isn't." She walked back next to Bruce who wore a shocked expression at her actions. "I want the name that Galavan gave you," she told Sterling/Jean.

He shook his head. "I told you, I don't know anything!"

"And I don't believe you," Selina replied coldly. "So you're going to tell me what he told you, or else."

"But he didn't tell me anything!"

Jack rolled his eyes and kicked him in the stomach, causing Sterling to double over onto the floor as he tried to regain the air in his lungs. "Try again," Jack told him.

Sterling grit his teeth and told Jack, "Go to hell."

Jack kicked him hard in his rib cage, causing him to groan in pain.

Bruce had been staring at Selina, a little bit shocked from how easily she was watching Sterling be beaten. Granted, he'd wanted a chance to beat down on the kid, too, but still…

He tried to step in front of her view, saying, "You don't need to watch this, Cat…" but she placed a firm hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Yes, I do. He lied to me, Bruce. He would do the same thing in my shoes," she told him.

"Exactly," Bruce responded. "And that's why we shouldn't do what he would. We can't go to his level…"

Selina furrowed her brow. "Bruce, do you trust me?" she asked. Bruce searched her face for an easy but true answer. Finding none, he nodded. He stepped back and stood next to her.

She took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze.

He'd crossed lines before, now she was doing the same. It was no different.

Or, at least, that's what Bruce told himself.

In the meantime, Jack had dragged Sterling back into his chair and lodged the gun into his stomach. He growled, "You know, there's a lot of things I've wanted to try out ever since I got back to Gotham, and you could be the one I try 'em on! Sound fun?" he asked enthusiastically.

Sterling grit his teeth. He looked around the room and, seeing no way out, said a single word. "Malone."

"What was that?" Jack asked, putting his ear down near Sterling's mouth. "I couldn't quite hear you…"

"Malone," Sterling snarled. "The man who killed her parents. His name was Malone."

Selina froze. All the work she'd done just for a single name… "Malone's a very common name," she stated. She nodded to Jack who grinned in fascination.

He called to Bruce, "Oh, I like this one," before lodging the gun deeper into Sterling's gut.

Sterling sneered and stated, "His first name starts with 'M'. That's all I know."

Jack glanced back at Bruce, who looked at Selina. Her expression hardened, but she eventually nodded.

Bruce nodded to Jack and told him, "That's enough."

Jack hummed in response, but didn't remove the gun.

"That's enough," Bruce repeated.

"Is it?" Jack asked. "Is letting him go with a few scratches enough, Bruce? After all, if what I found out was true…leaving him alive would be a mistake."

"We aren't going to kill him," Bruce stated firmly. "Right, Selina?"

She nodded, although hesitantly.

Jack snarled, "We don't have to _kill_ him. Did you know, Bruce, there's a place you can shoot someone and just hit the spinal cord? Doesn't kill the person, but it cripples 'em for life. Pretty cool, huh?" he asked with childlike enthusiasm, lodging the gun deeper into Sterling's stomach.

Bruce placed a firm hand on Jack's shoulder. "We got what we came for. It's over." Jack ignored him so he growled in his darkest, grittiest voice, "Back off. Now."

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed, removing the gun from Sterling's stomach. He walked up to Selina and held out his hand. She removed a packet of money from her jacket and gave it to him. He smiled. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Wayne. Tom! Boys!" he called, "let's go." He turned back as he reached the door and announced, "I'll see ya around, Bruce!" slamming the door and leaving Bruce and Selina alone with Sterling.

Bruce stood back, watching as Selina approached Sterling and started, "You're probably very confused right now. Probably have a million questions going through your head–"

"Selina, please," Sterling started.

"Shut up!" she yelled, startling both Sterling and Bruce. "I trusted you, Sterling. Or is it Jean?" She scoffed and shook her head. "Even after your uncle was arrested, I still believed you were my friend. It was finally Bruce who convinced me otherwise."

"I never bought your stupid act," Bruce told him.

"He broke into your apartment," Selina continued. "Found a letter with your real name on it. His friend," she said, nodding to the door that Jack had exited, "tracked you down and found out who you really are, who you work for… From there, it was clear that you'd been sent to push me to sell my company. That your entire family was corrupt. But I still had to find out what your uncle knew about my parents' murder. Now I do." She smirked. "Thank you."

With that, Selina turned on her heel and started towards the exit.

"Selina, wait!" Sterling called. "That name, the one I gave your friend, it wasn't real. It was just something I made up to stop him."

Bruce scoffed. "That's funny. You only made it up when _you_ were under the barrel, not when Selina was getting tortured."

Sterling stood up and got in his face, snarling, "You son-of-a-"

Bruce whipped out his own switchblade. "Please. Try it," he stated calmly.

Sterling grit his teeth in defiance and turned back to Selina, saying, "You're right about my uncle. He's everything everyone says. But the people who work for him are worse. When they find out what I told you…they'll kill me."

Bruce took his eyes off of Sterling, curious about what her reaction would be, especially given her recent behavior. She started to walk back towards him, saying, "Good. You're an evil person and you deserve whatever they'll do to you." She smiled at him bitterly. "Goodbye, Jean."

"Those things you told me today," he started, "I believed you."

She nodded. "Yeah, that was kinda the point."

He shook his head. "Please don't do this, Selina. It isn't you."

She stepped right up to him and retorted, "That's what you think…" she coolly dusted off his jacket and straightened his tie for him, "but you're wrong."

She turned and walked away. Bruce followed suit, an impressed smile dancing at the corners of his lips. Jean called after them, "Please, you have to help me! Please! Don't! Selina!"

Selina never turned, never stopped. She walked right out the door and out of his life, possibly ending it.

* * *

"Alfred?" Selina called as they entered her father's study.

No response.

She chuckled dryly. "He's probably out looking for me." She smiled. "Thank you, Bruce. I couldn't have done this without you."

Bruce shrugged and leaned up against the wall. "I was just happy to see the two-faced son-of-a-bitch get served," he joked. "So, what're you gonna do now? You gonna tell the cops or look for this Malone guy yourself?"

Selina shook her head. "Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead."

He nodded. "Whatever you do, let me know first, okay?"

"And why would I do that?" Selina asked, a small smile hinting at the corners of her mouth.

"Because if I hadn't interfered you'd be dating an assassin," he joked. She chuckled sheepishly, dropping her gaze to the ground.

Bruce could've left right then and there, and everything would've been fine.

He could've left and nothing would've changed between them.

He was the badass thief from the Narrows.

She was the beautiful, rich, orphan girl with a heart of gold.

But he couldn't leave yet, not with all the things changing between them, not with the way she'd been acting.

"So, when you whispered to him," he started apprehensively, "before he went to his uncle, w-what did you say?" he asked, trying to remain casual.

She smiled mischievously. "You want to know what I said?" she asked.

"Hey, if you don't wanna tell me, then I can leave–" he said, trying to backtrack.

"I told him that I'd never met anyone like him," she replied. "I told him that I trusted him with my life. And that I felt tied to him in a way that I couldn't explain, but wouldn't change. Ever."

Bruce nodded. "That's damn good."

She shrugged. "The best liars always tell the truth, right?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And that was true?"

She nodded. "Yes…"

He scoffed to himself and glanced at the ground. Maybe he should've taken the chance to beat up on Sterling a little…

"Just not about him," Selina finished.

Bruce stared at her for a moment, perplexed by what she'd meant by that.

Then she walked up to him, stood up on her tippy-toes, and kissed him on the cheek.

He got the memo.

And he blushed. Hard. "Um…" he mumbled, glancing at his feet, the door, the window, anything to avoid looking her in the eye. "I, um…I'm gonna…steal one of your cars to take to the city. Cool?" he asked, finally looking up at her.

Thank God she was blushing, too.

She nodded. "Sure."

He started to turn, but paused for a moment. He took a full look at her and was startled by how much she'd changed over a year and a half. She wasn't that scared little girl in the alleyway anymore. She was strong, battle-hardened. She'd gotten her hands dirty and the experiences had changed her.

A wise man named Henry Grant had once taught Bruce something: People change people.

He'd never understood what that meant, until today…

He turned around and walked towards the balcony doors. When he reached them, however, he stopped and turned back to her.

"Things are changing, and it's good that you're changing," he told her.

She smiled at him warmly, making his heart melt even more than it already had.

"Just…don't change too much."

And with that, Bruce Kyle swept out of the study. Selina followed him out onto the balcony and watched him speed off back to Gotham in one of her many, many cars.

She mentally high-fived herself. She'd just broken the mask of Bruce Kyle…and he hadn't run away…

How many other people had done that?

* * *

Selina heard the doors open and assumed it was Alfred, but she shot out of bed the second she heard the footsteps.

For over a year and a half, Alfred's footsteps had been the only ones she ever heard around the quiet house, other than when Bruce came to visit, so she would recognize them anywhere.

They weren't his.

It wasn't Alfred.

She stuck her head out of her doorway. Seeing the coast was clear, she made a beeline for her father's study where she knew a gun was hidden.

The door was cracked slightly open, and a light was radiating from inside. Her hand shot backwards from the doorknob. She started to back down the hall, but a voice called out, "Come here, Selina."

She wanted to scream, to run, but it wouldn't help.

She was alone in a house with Theo Galavan.

There was nowhere _to_ run.

She slowly opened the door and, knees shaking, she opened the door. Galavan was facing the fireplace, not even offering a glance in her direction as she entered the room. "You've shown mettle and ingenuity, Miss Wayne," he complimented. "But that's all done with."

"What do you want?" she asked meekly.

He removed a long, wicked knife from his jacket. "Why, your life, of course," he responded with a smile.

 **A/N: I hate to repeat myself on consecutive Authors Notes, but I just gotta say it…DUN-DUN-DUN! I hate to leave you guys on a cliffhanger like that, but I just have to. Don't worry, though; I'm already working on the next Chapter as I'm uploading this.**

 **I'd also like to take this time to thank you all once again for all of your incredible support on the series. It's been a wild ride and we aren't even halfway done with the second season yet! I mean, the next chapter will be number 20! Like…dude! This is crazy!**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and if you did, make sure favorite/follow so you don't miss my next update (coming soon). Also, please make sure to review if you have any comments/questions/concerns, or just generally want to talk about my story or Gotham S5. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **The following is a die-hard, BabyBatCat shipper's ramble. Casual fans: you have been warned.**

 ***inhales* I'd like to take this time to point out that the line: "It's good you're changing. Just don't change too much," is (in my opinion) the single best line of dialogue to encapsulate Bruce and Selina's early relationship, as well as why I believe that that line is the end of their initial story arc (the one that started all the way back in the alleyway). Everything else I'm about to say is about canon, so please don't get it confused with my story as the line has a very different significance in my story than in canon. Their first arc started off with the alleyway when Bruce's life was changed forever. From that point on, Selina helped and guided him through his process of changing from a kid who's weak and protected to a teen who's strong and willing to stick up for himself against anyone. She'd been the one** _ **helping**_ **him change, so her asking him to not change too much signifies that she recognizes that he's changed drastically since they first met in the beginning of Season 1 (as well as her not wanting him to change too much from the boy that she'd fallen for all those years ago). From that moment on, he doesn't change too much until the end of Season 3/beginning of Season 4 and the second story arc becomes one of Bruce, now a dignified hardass, discovering his limits and how far he's willing to let himself go. Anyways, that conversation between them is one of my top three favorite BatCat moments of the whole show (at least as of 1x01 to 5x03) and I hope I pulled it off well enough. Oh, and also their little romantic music theme that plays every time they have a really cute moment was played in the background (at time signature 37:05) as she says that line, but it was played really quietly on a piano instead of whatever it is normally played on (some stringed instrument I think), and that single choice by the music directors/writers/producers of the show to have it played quietly, like a moment of inner reflection for Selina as she realizes that her feelings for him are changing from a crush to something stronger, perfectly sums up how incredibly well done the show truly is. Granted, Gotham is a dignified mess, but moments like these are what makes it a truly, truly amazing mess. *inhales* but I digress. Let me know what you think. Jak out.**

 ***drops mic***

 ***immediately apologizes to mic for dropping it***

 ***walks off stage awkwardly cause I just apologized to an inanimate object***


	20. The Son of Gotham

**A/N: Wow. Twenty Chapters. Over a hundred Reviews. Simply: Thank You. That's all I got for now so here's Chapter 20! Hope you enjoy!**

 **The Son of Gotham**

Selina freely allowed herself to be dragged through the hallways of Galavan's building, figuring there was no point in fighting her kidnappers. Even if she'd wanted to, her hands were tied and they'd pulled a bag over her head, so there was no point in resisting. She'd save her strength for now.

She was abruptly shoved into a chair and the bag removed from her head. She blinked hard a few times as her eyes adjusted to the glaring light of the room.

Standing in front of her was Theo Galavan himself, smiling all smug-like.

"You okay?" he asked calmly and genuinely, as if he really cared about her well-being. She simply raised a judgmental eyebrow in response. "Glass of water?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Theo, can I call you Theo?, if you want me to sign those papers I'd still be willing to make a deal…"

He scoffed and shook his head. "I know, I know. But I can acquire your company by other means." He smiled and crouched down to her level, saying, "My true name is Dumas. And a long time ago, my family were dishonored and degraded by yours."

She furrowed her brow and shrugged. "Okay? So?"

"For centuries, our noble clan has lived in vile, squalid obscurity." Sensing he was about to start monologuing, she tuned out and looked around the room. Nothing had changed much since she'd last seen it, other than the cloaked men stationed around the perimeter of the apartment. She tuned back in as he continued, "But we lived in hope, because our patron saint spoke of a glorious day to come. But that day would only come when nine men of Gotham and the last son of our mortal enemy are slain by righteous hands. That's you, Selina. You're the last son."

She scoffed. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a boy. Sorry for wasting your time. I'll just go…"

Another man in robes walked in, holding a small jar in one of his hands. "Nonsense, child," he said as he approached. "The prophecy did say Son of Gotham, but given you're the sole survivor of the name, an exception can be made." He dipped his index and middle fingers into the jar and then marked her forehead with water.

"Hey, knock it off," she protested.

"Be glad, child," he said quietly. "You're the anointed redeemer of your family. For seven generations, the Wayne family has wallowed in vice and corruption. So tonight, at the forewarned hour of midnight, the Dumas shall be avenged, and the sins of the Wayne family shall wash away in your blood."

Selina froze and clenched her jaw. She'd know she'd have to hold on until help arrived, but now she was on a deadline. Literally.

Two of the hooded men lifted her from the chair and the man, who Galavan had called Father Creel, led them out of the penthouse. She threw one last dirty glare at Galavan as they left.

They went down an elevator to the lobby, and then took several more flights of stairs downwards until they reached a stone passageway that was probably older than Gotham itself.

No, it wasn't a passageway, it was a prison. Cells lined the walls, the bars dated and covered in rust, but the locks appearing brand new.

Most of the cells were empty, although she did see one with a human skeleton in the corner.

However, there was one cell that was very much occupied.

Selina had seen some horrible things in her life firsthand, but she audibly gasped at the sight.

His shirt had been torn clean off his back and he looked thirty pounds lighter than what was healthy. His chest, back, and arms were littered with cuts and lacerations and his skin was stained red from the blood, his face unscathed but deathly white. He was almost unrecognizable.

Sterling was hanging there, his hands chained to the ceiling to keep him in a standing position. He looked halfway to death.

His eyes weakly cracked open, the only indicator that he was even alive, other than his occasional hitched, heavy gasps for breathe. "Selina…" he rasped.

She hated his guts, but this…he didn't deserve this…no one deserved this…

"What…what are you doing to him?" she squeaked out, trying, and failing, to keep her voice void of emotion.

Creel looked up at Sterling and shook his head in shame. "Mr. Valley's conditioning was broken," he told her simply. "We've been attempting to reinstall it, although his body is giving out faster than expected. It is more than likely he will not survive the night."

And with that Creel turned and continued down the hallway. Sterling gave her one more longing stare, silently begging her for help. She had to remind herself that she despised him, that he deserved what he got. But…

Creel opened the cell directly next to Sterling's, and she was led inside it. One guard set down a white, linen robe and they left her there.

A few minutes later, Selina, now sitting on the small cot in the corner of the room, heard the other cell door creak open. A female voice asked, "Shall we try this again, Mr. Valley?"

He grunted in response and Selina heard a blade unsheathe.

She cringed as he let out his first yell of pain, the blade tearing and ripping at his flesh.

"Who do you serve?" the woman asked.

"The Order of St. Dumas," he replied through gritted teeth.

The blade sliced his flesh again and he groaned. "Who do you serve?" the woman repeated.

"The…the Order of St. Dumas," he stated again.

This went on for nearly an hour, pure agony for the boy in the adjacent cell.

She'd done that to him…

A part of her wanted to say that he deserved it, that he'd probably done much worse things, that he was a horrible person.

But another, weaker voice told her that it was unjust, evil even. The second voice didn't sound like hers, but she listened to it anyway. It was either that, or listen to his screams of pain.

* * *

As the time passed, his cries grew quieter and quieter, although Selina kept her ears firmly plugged until she was certain it was over.

Finally, the cell door screeched open, and then slammed shut.

He'd gone quiet. Another hour passed in silence. At one point, she was pretty certain that he'd stopped breathing altogether. She offhandedly called, "You still alive over there?"

There was silence for a few moments until she heard him grunt in response. She took that as a yes.

"You deserve it," she stated,. "Whatever hell they're putting you through, you deserve even worse."

He scoffed.

Sighing, she rested her head back against the cool wall. "How'd we end up like this?" she asked, her false anger vanishing when he didn't put up a fight.

This time, he laughed out loud, although it was pained and labored. "I made a mistake," he said weakly.

She chuckled bitterly. "You're gonna have to be more specific. You've made a lot of those."

He scoffed, again. "My job was to get close to you," he told her. "I'm good at that, getting close to people, getting them to trust me." He went into a fit of coughing before continuing, "But I can never get attached. And I'm really, really good at that."

She smirked. "Apparently not."

He went quiet again.

Selina closed her eyes and eventually dozed off.

* * *

She woke with a start as a cage door slammed shut, again.

She could hear Sterling's breath now, hard and labored, probably fresh from another round of 'conditioning'.

After a few minutes, Selina's curiosity got the better of her. "What does conditioning mean?" she asked.

Sterling took a ragged breath and sighed slowly. "Members of the Order are taught to become accustomed extreme pain. It makes us less viable to capture or torture."

She scoffed. "Well if I remember right, you broke pretty easily."

He hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I was. And they weren't happy about it. I was actually supposed to get executed for it, but Galavan's sister vouched for me. They decided to recondition me instead of just killing me."

"Yeah? Could've fooled me," Selina responded.

He chuckled darkly. "Yeah, I probably look like hell, feel like it, too."

* * *

A few more hours passed in silence. She was eventually brought a glass of water and a loaf of stale bread to eat, which she practically wolfed down since she hadn't eaten anything since lunch the day prior. At one point or another, she decided to change into the white robe that'd been left for her. There was no point in fighting it anymore.

She would die tonight, one way or another. All of this would be over. In a way, she was almost relieved.

Out of the blue, Sterling said, "I'm sorry, Selina."

She furrowed her brow. "For what?"

"Everything. Lying to you, tricking you," he replied honestly. "I'm sorry for joining the damned Order."

Selina paused. "Why…why did you join them, anyway?"

He sighed. "My parents were in it."

"Are they really dead or did you just make that up?" Selina asked bluntly.

He chuckled. "No, that part was true. A lot of it was true… They were both members of the Order. They were killed on a mission. The Order viewed it as a shameful death, so both of their lifelong pledges to the Order fell to me." He paused. "I was seven."

Selina sat there, staring at the floor, not sure what to say to that. She'd been given a bad draw in life, sure, but his luck was debatably even worse than her own.

"Selina, I have a very… _specific_ skill set. They turned me into a weapon. I did a lot of horrible things…never thought twice about them. Then, a few months ago, I was offered this assignment. You. I was to come here with Galavan, befriend you, make you trust me so he could get close to you. And then…" he trailed off, but Selina sensed there was more.

"Then?" she asked.

He sighed heavily. He went silent for a few minutes and Selina figured that that was the end of the conversation. She laid out on her cot, trying to enjoy her last few hours of life before it'd all be over.

"And then I was supposed to kill you in the end," Sterling said quietly. "If I did it, they said they'd bring me into the Dumas family, debt forgiven, the whole Order at my disposal."

Selina stared at the ceiling. "Huh…that sounds pretty cool," she said emotionlessly.

He hummed sadly in agreement. "Yeah, it did. I was looking at serving the Order for the rest of my life. Selina…I've killed so many people. Fathers, mothers…I slit an eight year-old's throat, once, right in front of her parents…" his voice quivered. "It wasn't even an order; I was just getting information… So, when I saw a chance to get out…" he choked up.

She could hear him weeping.

He didn't speak again.

She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he was a monster. He deserved to feel whatever pain was crushing him, physically or emotionally.

But wasn't she the same? Wasn't she the one willing to let Jack blow Sterling's spine out of his back for information? Wasn't she the one who wanted to hunt down and butcher the man who killed her parents? Wasn't she the one who sentenced Sterling to this fate?

The only difference between the two of them: Sterling had been forced down that path.

She'd freely chosen to take it.

Silent tears began to stream down her face. She wasn't scared to die, but she was terrified of what would happen when she was gone. What would Alfred do? What about Bruce? What would they remember her as?

But maybe she deserved to die this way.

This was who she was.

This was who she'd die as.

But maybe…maybe she could do something good with her life. What had Creel called her? The anointed redeemer? Maybe…maybe she could be that. Not for herself or her family, but for the scared boy being tortured in the room next to her. Maybe she could save him.

But the only way for her to do that was to let him kill her.

Would she be able to?

* * *

Bruce ran across the entirety of Gotham when he first heard the rumor. All day the Underworld had been stirring. Penguin's top enforcers from throughout the city were converging on a single location, but no one knew why. Then, a street kid who'd been hanging around at the GCPD had heard Detective Gordon go off about Selina Wayne being abducted. The news had spread like wildfire, and Bruce caught wind of it pretty quickly.

He arrived at the window and slipped it open silently. The room was filled to the brim with police officers, thugs, and butlers, an odd mix, but a dangerous one nonetheless.

"Alright, everybody set?" Gordon asked the room, each man loaded up with weapons. "Let's go."

"Whoa, whoa," Bullock said warily. "What's the plan?"

"We get into the building, find Galavan, put a gun in his mouth until he gives up Selina," Gordon told him.

"Then I kill him slowly," Penguin finished.

"No. Then we arrest him," Gordon corrected.

"Yeah, no. Are you nuts?" Penguin demanded. "After all that he has done?"

"He's going to stand trial," Gordon told him mechanically. "Gotham needs to know who he really is."

"Gotham needs him dead!" Penguin shouted.

"Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, can we just stop the bunny and just first get in there, please, chaps?" Alfred growled.

"Yes, let's go," Gordon agreed.

"Seriously, that's it?" a black man in a suit asked. "You have no plan? How are you even going to get into the building?"

"I know a way," Bruce chimed in. Every head in the room snapped towards him, calmly sitting on the windowsill. On the inside, however, he was anything but calm. He purposefully ignored Gordon, choosing to meet the gaze of anyone and everyone else besides him.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the black man decided to address the elephant in the room. "Who is he?"

"Fox, that's Bruce. Bruce, Fox," Bullock introduced. Bruce gave Fox a nod as he entered, still refusing to look at Gordon.

"You know a way in?" Gordon asked warily.

Bruce rolled his eyes and sharply replied, "Yes, I know a way in, Gordon."

"How do we know you won't stitch us up?" Alfred asked in an accusatory tone. "I mean, you switch sides often enough. How do we know that you're not working with Galavan now?"

Bruce was about to make some witty comeback but Gordon interjected, "He's here to help. Trust me; I've seen how he gets about his friend's safety. You're in, Bruce."

Gordon started to hand Bruce his pistol, to which Bruce cocked an eyebrow and asked, "You really think giving me a gun is a good idea, Gordon?"

Gordon nodded sheepishly and put the gun back in his holster. "Let's go," he told the room.

"People," Fox started with hesitance, "surely we should have a backup strategy. Given the strong possibilities of failure."

" _Au contraire_ , Mr. Fox," Penguin told him. "Failure is not an option."

Fox looked at Gordon, who shrugged in return. "What he said."

Fox nodded slowly. "As you like."

As they moved out, Bruce walked straight up to Gordon and grabbed his collar, pulling him down so they were at eye-level. "I just wanna make one thing clear, Gordon. When all this is done, when Selina is safe, nothing changes between us. If I see you again, I'll kill you. You hear me?" he threatened.

Gordon nodded curtly. "Got it."

* * *

"Are you scared?" Sterling asked. The clock above Selina's head had been ticking away. There was less than five minutes left. In five minutes, she'd be dead…

She scoffed quietly. "Sure. Maybe a little. But, mostly, I feel very alive. Happy, even," she told him, and it was true. Every heartbeat, every breath she drew, it counted. It mattered. She'd never thought about it like that before. She was on borrowed time. "I'm going to see my parents," she stated wistfully.

The door at the top of the staircase cracked open and several pairs of footsteps started to descend it. A small group of monks opened her door and she stood up, keeping her head held high.

Galavan smiled evilly at her. "Showtime," he said.

She looked right past him, knocking into him with her shoulder as she exited the room.

Galavan turned to the cage next to hers and told another group of monks, "Bring the boy, too."

Selina got her first look at him since she'd first entered her cell that morning. Some of the color had come back to his face, although his chest was littered in new cuts. They put a cloak around him and unshackled his hands from the ceiling. He stood of his own free power, although he stumbled on his first step. The guards took the pair of them by their arms and led them up the staircase to the elevator.

This was it. Tonight was the night.

The 'Son' of Gotham would die.

And she was okay with it.

* * *

Bruce slowly and silently lifted the metal panel covering his exit. Standing not two feet away from him was a monk dressed in a black robe. He set the panel down quietly and lifted himself out of the passage. He took hold of the railing in front of him and, taking a deep breath, launched himself over it and onto the monk's back, knocking them both to the floor. Bruce regained his footing and threw a hard right hook into the man's jaw.

"Thank you, Ted," he muttered before crossing the garage. He unlocked and lifted the garage door, saying, "Come on in." The small army followed after him as he jogged through the complex, taking random cuts and turns through the hallways. Anyone else probably would've gotten lost, but Bruce knew where he was going.

Selina was here, and he had to get to her.

They reached a long, spiral staircase and Bruce didn't hesitate, launching himself up the stairs two or three at a time.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Bullock complained.

Bruce didn't feel a thing, though. He was too jacked on adrenaline to care that thirty flights of stairs separated him from Selina. Galavan would need a lot more than stairs to stop him.

* * *

Selina and Sterling were led into a ballroom, although it didn't seem so grand right then. A ring of monks lined the walls and in the middle of the room sat a single wooden post surrounded by candles.

The guards led her to the post and tied her up. She looked around the clean, warm room. Of all the places to die, this wasn't too bad. It would've been even less horrible had the men surrounding the room not been chanting, "Death to the Son of Gotham, Death to the Son of Gotham," over and over and over on an endless repeat.

She wanted to tell them that they sounded like a broken record player, but figured that that wouldn't help her case very much.

Creel, who'd been sitting in a throne at the other end of the room, stood and approached her. He took the knife that Galavan had been holding earlier, and when he thrust the blade into the air, the crowd fell silent.

He stepped forward to Selina and told her, "Prepare yourself, child."

She scoffed. "You're all idiots," she called sarcastically. "Just wanted to let you know in case you didn't already. Now can you just get it over with?"

He smiled weakly, but turned away from her towards…Sterling. The monks who'd been holding him back released him and he stumbled to the ground. Slowly, he regained his footing as Creel approached him. He held out the blade for Sterling to take. Sterling stared at him in confusion before a wave of understanding passed over his face. "You survived conditioning," Creel told him. "Now prove you are loyal to the Order. Take it and fulfill your destiny."

Sterling held up a shaking hand. Slowly, he took the knife from the old man, who stepped back.

Selina met his eyes. This was it. This was her chance to make up for all of it. She nodded.

He slowly crept forwards, trying not to stumble. He was only a few feet away, five, four, three…

Then he was standing there, scarred and bloody, his body visibly trembling from both fatigue and nerves, a knife in his hand.

"Do it," she whispered. "Please, Ster...Jean, do it. Kill me."

He raised the knife to the center of her chest, the tip catching on her cloak. The blade was quaking in his hand.

"It's okay, Jean," she told him, although her voice was now quivering, as well.

She pictured her mother and what she would do in the situation, if it was Selina's life on the line.

"I forgive you," she told him.

He looked up at her, his eyes glossy and filled with pain and turmoil. "I'm sorry."

He stepped back, removing the tip of the knife from her chest. He turned and walked back to Creel, his head bowed. Creel took the knife from him without a word as Jean secluded back into the crowd of monks.

Creel stepped forward to her.

Selina wanted to scream. Her life would be wasted…

"Ancestors," Creel called to the sky, "be our witness. The prophecy is fulfilled!" He raised the knife.

Then everything went to hell.

A door slammed open and a wave of people came crashing into the room, cops and criminals alike.

Then she saw Bruce standing there, armed with knuckledusters and a knife strapped to his belt. She'd never seen him look so angry before.

The monks converged around her post, armed with knives against the small army's guns.

Both parties froze for a moment, sizing one another up.

Then Creel roared, "Sacrilege!" and his men charged.

Gunfire erupted and Bruce surged forward.

A monk charged to meet him and got a knuckleduster in the mouth for his troubles.

Another grabbed onto his sleeve and took a stab at Bruce's chest, but he deflected it, disarmed the man, and proceeded to snap the man's arm clean in half. Was it overkill? Probably. But he didn't care. A fire had been building up inside of him from the moment he'd heard Selina was in trouble, and he was gonna let it all out.

Another monk charged and Bruce grabbed onto his shirt, kicked his feet out from under him, and slammed him to the ground, stomping him in the head for good measure.

He could see Selina now, but there was one more robed-person standing in his way.

"Sterling…" he growled. "Get out of the way right now. I don't want to hurt you."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I can't do that." He raised his knife.

Bruce removed his knuckledusters and drew his own knife from his belt.

Sterling charged. He took a swipe at Bruce's stomach and if he'd had been half a second quicker, Bruce would've been gutted. Instead, Bruce gripped his wrist and kneed him in the gut. Sterling stabbed at his leg, forcing Bruce to deflect it and retreat momentarily.

"You don't need these people," Bruce told him. "You're strong enough without them."

Sterling shook his head in frustration. "No!" he roared. "I have to serve the Order! I-I have to…" although he seemed less sure about it than before.

"We can help you," Bruce stated.

Sterling charged without warning. His blade grazed Bruce's side and he cried out in pain. Sterling kicked him in the side of his leg and he fell to a kneeling position. Sterling raised his knife and plunged it down, but Bruce deflected it, causing the blade to sink into the floor and get stuck.

Bruce punched him hard in the gut, shoving him as far towards Selina's post as possible.

She took the opportunity and kicked him in the back of his knee. He buckled over and Bruce struck at the chance, flipping his knife around and slamming the butt into Sterling's head.

Sterling dropped to the floor, out cold.

Bruce moved quickly, cutting Selina free from the ropes that bound her to the post. He took her hand and turned to the battlefield, noticing what had been going on around them for the first time. The ground was littered with dead monks, but one remained standing in between them and their allies.

And he was staring dead at Bruce.

Gordon shouted, "Drop the knife, old man. It's over."

"So it would seem," he responded, not once removing his gaze from Bruce. "Death to the Son of Gotham," he muttered before launching himself at the two of them.

No, not at the two of them. Just him. Just Bruce.

A gunshot fired and the old man came crashing down to the floor, dead.

Bruce led Selina across the room, giving the last fallen monk a wide berth, just in case. Alfred pulled her into a hug as Gordon and Penguin charged off after Galavan.

"Come on, Miss Wayne. Let's get you out of here, eh?" Alfred said, leading her back to the door they'd entered from.

Bruce followed, but stalled at the door. He took a glance back at the battlefield and his hair stood on end.

Sterling had disappeared.

He got a sneaking suspicion that that wouldn't be the last he heard of Sterling St. Cloud _or_ Jean-Paul Valley.

* * *

Bruce led them through the hallways again, wisely choosing to take the elevator to the lobby rather than the stairs.

He remained on edge the whole time, and it was a good thing, too. A monk would've decapitated him had me not been on alert. Instead, Bruce took a cheap shot on the poor bastard. Extreme pain tolerance or not, he wouldn't be walking straight for a while.

They arrived back in the garage and Bruce let out a sigh of relief.

Alfred piped up, "I do believe, Miss Wayne, this falls firmly into the category of 'I told you so'."

"I told her so, too, Alfred," Bruce agreed.

"Yes, well, thank you both for your help," Selina started, now leading the way through the garage. "But I had a perfectly feasible escape plan."

Bruce and Alfred stopped, glancing at one another in both shock and annoyance.

Bruce scoffed quietly and continued after her. "Sure kid," he mumbled.

Alfred broke into one of the fancier cars and they loaded into it, Selina and Bruce in the back seat together.

They were silent for a while. Selina stared out the window, keeping her gaze on the moon.

She had never been more thankful to see it.

Alfred eventually said, "You know, Miss Wayne, I don't always approve of the…company you keep, but I think this one takes the biscuit, don't it?"

"Alfred…" Bruce started in mock awe, "Did you just say something somewhat, unintentionally nice about me?"

Alfred returned his eyes to the road without a response, which Bruce took as a yes.

He glanced over at Selina and was reminded just how beautiful she truly was. "Hey," he started, "I was just thinking, since Sterl…or Jean, rather, is out of the picture, could I take you to your school dance?" he asked hesitantly.

She cracked a small smile. "Really?" she asked. "I almost just got sacrificed and that's what you're thinking about?"

"Yup," Bruce replied simply.

She fully smiled and nodded. "Okay. But only if you behave."

He rolled his eyes and told her, "I'll try my hardest."

"Good," she replied, placing her hand on his own. "I'm looking forward to it, then."

Alfred cleared his throat and asked, "Mr. Kyle, would you like me to drop you off in the Narrows?"

Bruce nodded. "Yes, please. Thank you, Alfred."

The ride finished in silence, but not like the silence before in the prison cells. No, this silence was a content one. There was nothing left to say to one another, so they just sat, enjoying each other's company.

Finally, Alfred pulled over and Bruce climbed out of the car.

He cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Selina asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing, it's just getting colder. Winter's coming…you can feel it."

"Well, if you ever need a warm place to stay, the Manor's always open," she told him.

Bruce smiled. "Thanks, Cat. I'll probably take you up on that, some day."

"Yeah, just make sure to ring, first," Alfred called from the front seat.

Bruce smirked, telling him, "Will do." He lowered his voice and quickly told Selina, "Stay safe. And call me before doing anything about 'you know who'."

She nodded. "Okay. You be safe, too."

"Yeah, right," Alfred muttered. "That boy be safe…that'll be the bloody day." Alfred muttered.

Selina smiled. "Goodbye, Bruce."

"Bye, Cat. I'll see ya around."

The car pulled off and Bruce started towards a nearby fire escape. He climbed up to the roof and removed a small piece of paper from his left breast pocket; the same place where his mother's locked was safely stored away.

He unfolded it and read aloud, "M. Malone."

Winter was coming, and it was coming fast.

He had to find Malone, and soon.

Or at least before Selina managed to…

 **A/N: *sigh of relief* and the first half of Season Two is over! It's been a long time coming and we almost matched the chapter count for the entirety of Season One, but I'm so happy that we did. Season 2 is my personal favorite season of Gotham to this point (I watched the whole thing in the span of two days) and I'm glad that I got to delve into it so much. Now bring on the Wrath of the Villains! I hope you enjoyed and if you did, please make sure to Favorite/Follow so you don't miss out on future uploads. And if you have any questions/comments/concerns about this piece or anything else I've written, please Review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **Oh, and I didn't post a Night-of-Episode-Oneshot this week because I wasn't able to watch it until Friday night because something else came up, although I would've much rather been sitting in the pitch-black in my living room on my couch in my batman pajamas than what I had to/was forced to do last Thursday night. There will be a oneshot next week, though! Also, was anyone else screaming "YES! YES! YES! STAB HIM! STAB HIM! YES! END HIM!" every time Cat stabbed Jeremiah? No? Just me? Well okay then ;)**

 **Also I'm thinking about going back and updating/rewriting the first couple chapters of this series, specifically the first two since they're what people see when they first click on the story. I've grown and improved so much as a writer since I started this story, so I want to go back and fix them. I wanted to let you know since the site will act like I updated the story but there'll be no new chapter posted. Just want to avoid confusion.**

 **Side Note: to the Guest who left the comment earlier about running a certain user off of the platform because of them writing a non-official story about fake characters in a fake scenario on his non-official account, please don't leave your complaints on my page. I'll just delete them anyways so there's no point. You're just wasting your time. If you got a problem with the writer, get an account and have a conversation with them about it. I've personally had conversations with said writer and (as far as I know) he's a pretty chill dude and would be willing to have a discussion with you. Either way I ask you politely: don't associate your hate with my account. It doesn't look good for either of us.  
Thanks and best wishes,  
-Jak**


	21. Wrath of the Victim

**A/N: Before we start, I'd just like to give a head's up that this chapter is almost completely centered around Selina's point of view. I usually don't do that, but this one definitely called for it since the whole plot revolves around almost only her. Anyways, that's all I got for now, so happy reading! I hope you enjoy!**

 **Wrath of the Victim**

"A _month_!" Selina cried in indignation as Alfred bustled around her room, removing clothes from her closet and stuffing them hastily into her suitcase. "But…"

"No 'buts'!" Alfred replied. "Doctor's orders."

"But we're so close!" Selina protested. "We _finally_ have a name after two years!"

"And it's waited that long, so it can wait another month," Alfred responded stubbornly. He slammed her suitcase shut and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Selina, this is for your own good. And it's not up for debate."

With that he whisked out of the room.

She huffed. She couldn't believe he was making her wait another whole month to find her parents' killer.

Then, she had an even more distraught-causing revelation…

" _WAIT_! THE _DANCE_ IS IN _TWO WEEKS_!" she yelled, charging after him.

* * *

A month.

A whole freaking month, she sat in Switzerland doing utterly nothing but wishing she could be anywhere else. Well, technically she'd annoyed Alfred enough to get the trip cut down to three weeks, but it still felt like a small eternity since she'd last been in the city.

Then finally, graciously, their plane touched back down in Gotham.

Her first order of business: call Bruce.

She could've called him from Switzerland, but Alfred had all but banned her from doing so, meaning the last time she'd spoken with him had been right before they left, informing him that she was being dragged off to Europe and thereby couldn't go to the dance with him.

He'd seemed understanding, but she'd been pissed about it.

She still was.

And then Alfred had the _nerve_ to call Dr. Thompkins over for a therapy session, first thing?

She loved Dr. Thompkins, but that was too far.

Alfred led her inside, avoiding the eye-daggers Selina had been sending him every since they arrived home. He dismissed himself and Selina sat down across from Lee on one of the couches in the study.

"So? What do you want?" Selina started, anxious to get the meeting over with.

"How was Switzerland?" Lee asked offhandedly, giving Selina that dazzling smile of hers.

What she would do to look like that…

No! That's just what Lee wanted her to do, get her distracted from the matter at hand. She wouldn't fall for her games.

"It was fine," she responded flatly. "Alfred said you wanted to talk to me," she stated, getting straight to the point.

"Alfred wanted me to speak with you. He's worried about you," Lee told her gently. "He's worried that you might be concealing any trauma you must be feeling."

Selina shook her head, inwardly scoffing. "He needn't worry. I tell him I'm fine, which I am, and he doesn't believe me."

"You were violently abducted," Lee stated. "You nearly died. You must have been very scared. It's normal to feel trauma, it's nothing you need to be ashamed of."

She shook her head. "I wasn't scared."

"No?" Lee asked. "What did you feel?"

"I felt alive," Selina replied. "Intensely alive. Do you…" she looked up at Lee, "do you think I'm abnormal?" she asked with fake worry in her voice.

Lee sighed, placing a comforting hand on Selina's knee. "You're certainly unusual. If you're being honest."

"I'm always honest," Selina replied a bit too quickly.

Lee nodded. "That's a good way to be. Tough to pull off."

"I try," Selina told her simply.

"And how do you feel now?" Lee asked.

"Like I said, I feel fine," Selina stated. "Invigorated." She smiled. "I have a second chance at life."

"What do you plan to do with that chance?" Lee asked.

Selina shook her head. "My plans are the same. Find the man who killed my parents."

Lee's eyes darkened slightly. "Selina, you need closure."

"Exactly."

"Closure," Lee repeated. "Not a dangerous and possibly endless obsession."

"I'll find him," Selina stated.

"How?" Lee asked. "Selina, you're a schoolgirl, not a homicide detective."

"I believe people can be two things at once. Don't you think so?" Selina asked.

"Yes, they can. So, you find the culprit. What then?" Lee asked her.

"I'll let the law take its course," Selina replied, although her eyes were now firmly planted on the floorboards.

"Is that the truthful answer?" Lee asked.

"It's the one I'm giving you," Selina replied bluntly.

"What happened to honest Selina?"

Selina shrugged. "That's a good question. I guess that's the other Selina." She dropped her gaze to the fireplace behind Lee. "Sorry. I don't mean to be flippant with you. This conversation has been very useful," Selina told her. "Clarifying. Perhaps we can do it again sometime."

Lee nodded slowly. "Sure. We can do that."

* * *

Lee went off to her car and Selina made a beeline for the nearest telephone. She typed in the number Bruce had given her a few months earlier after the Gang War had ended, the same one she'd used a month ago to let him know that she was leaving.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

The receiver finally picked up and she half-yelled, half-asked, "Bruce!?"

"No," a gruffer voice responded. "This is Ted Grant. Who is this?"

"Oh, um, I was told that this was Bruce Kyle's number?" she asked, ignoring his question about her name.

"He's not here right now, but I can take a message," Ted told her.

"Okay, well…" she blanked. "Can you tell him to…just tell him I need to talk to him."

"Sure thing, Miss?"

"Cat," Selina responded shortly.

"Okay…Miss Cat. I'll let him know."

"Thank you," Selina told him and with that she abruptly hung up.

Who was Ted Grant and, more importantly, where was Bruce?

She'd just have to wait.

For now, however, she had a lot of work to refresh herself on and an M. Malone to find.

* * *

Several hours later, Selina was still hunched over her father's desk in the secret room below the Manor, going over files for the five-hundredth time. There had to be something she'd missed…

She was so involved in the papers that she didn't notice Alfred's presence until he was waving a file under her nose.

Her eyes shot up to him in surprise. She breathed out and relaxed slightly, recognizing who it was. "Sorry, I didn't hear you," she told him.

"Yes, Miss Wayne, I got that."

She returned to her papers, asking, "Where'd you go, anyways?"

"I got held up in the city," he answered. "I thought your chat with Dr. Thompkins would keep you occupied."

She rolled her eyes. "And I thought you were against therapy."

"Well, that's before I realized you're still keen on keeping secrets," he retorted.

"If I'd told you what Bruce and I were doing, you would have stopped me. Because I didn't, I got the name of my parents' killer from Sterling," Selina told him, finally looking up from her papers as she told him off. "Then you made us leave Gotham. We lost a month we could have spent searching for M. Malone."

"We left the city because you were at the end of your emotional and physical rope, and quite frankly, you were incapable of catching a common cold let alone a killer." He set down the file he'd been holding, plopping it right in front of her face. "Now will you listen to me?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly. She looked up from her files, her eyes narrowed but her ears open. "Now, I need to ask you a very important question. Are we in this together, or not?"

Selina peered at him, curious as to where this was going. "Yes," she answered. He didn't seem convinced, so she elaborated, "We're in this together."

"Right, well, I had some business in the city. I went to see a sergeant I know and we did some digging in some GCPD files for any M. Malones that fit our particulars. Age, size, height, race. Whether they were free during the murder of your parents…"

Selina's eyes dropped to the new file sitting in front of her. "And?" she asked, hoping he meant what she thought he meant.

He placed a finger on the file, saying, "Patrick Malone."

She thought her heart was going to stop.

All that work, all the pain for a single name. A single file.

She wouldn't have traded anything in the world for that file. It was priceless.

And there it was, sitting right in front of her.

"Goes by the nickname 'Matches'," Alfred told her. "Delightful chap, really. Committed his first murder when he was fifteen. Suspected of half a dozen since."

Selina reached forward at a snail's pace, her hands shaking. She opened the file slowly, a mix of fear and anticipation at the prospect of seeing the face of the man who'd killed her parents.

It was almost kind of a letdown when she saw him.

He looked so…normal. Just like anyone else she'd pass on the streets of Gotham. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't that.

"Now, I need to ask you, if you were in charge, what next?" Alfred asked her.

Selina hesitated, some part of her not believing that this could be true. "You could've gotten this information from Detective Gordon. Why didn't you contact him?" she asked doubtfully.

"I'm the one asking questions now, Miss Wayne," Alfred told her. "We find this man," he started, placing a finger on Malone's picture, "what do you plan to do?"

She stared at the face of her parents' killer, the man who'd tried to ruin her life, the man who could've ended it had he chosen to. He wasn't like Sterling, or Galavan, or even Jack. They were human.

Matches Malone was not.

"Kill him," Selina stated coldly.

"No," Alfred replied simply.

"You can't stop me–" Selina started, standing up from her chair.

"I bloody can, and I will," Alfred told her. "You're too young to have a death on your conscience, Miss Wayne." Selina started to raise a protest, but Alfred continued, "I know how your parents deserve justice and I know you're not gonna stop till you find it. But when we find this Malone, I will kill him and not you." Selina's eyes widened in surprise. "That is the deal," Alfred stated. "Do you accept?"

Selina stared up at him. He'd kill Malone, and not her? Could she let him do that?

She swallowed, answering, "Yes."

"Say it," Alfred implored.

Selina took a deep breath. "We find him, we make him talk." She paused for a half of a second. "You kill him," she finished.

Alfred nodded, giving her a long look before turning and walking out of the cave.

* * *

Selina sat by the fire, boredly poking at the smoldering cinders.

She smiled.

"I felt the breeze when you came in the window," she said, never once removing her eyes from the dying flames.

Bruce huffed. "You're no fun anymore," he complained, turning to the couch and roughly plopping down on it.

She stood from the fireplace and smiled at him. His hair had gotten a little bit longer on the top, but the sides had been cut shorter than before. He looked…good. She smiled, again. "I'm glad you came. I need a favor," she told him.

Bruce scoffed. "Nice to see you, Bruce," he mocked. "Sorry for skipping town to go to my castle in France for a month."

"It's a chalet…" she started. He arched his brow and she finished in a mumble, "In Switzerland…"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting Alfred to come bustling in and try to run him out of the house with a broom. "Where's the King of Snotty England?" he asked.

"Alfred went to the city," she replied. He nodded and sighed, nodding for her to get to whatever point she'd had for calling him. She picked up a file off of the coffee table, holding it up. "This is the man that Sterling told us about. Alfred tracked him down."

Bruce looked up at her in evident surprise. He reached out to take it, but she hesitated to give it to him. He got the memo and returned his hands to the pockets of his army jacket.

He nodded. "So, you found him. What do you need me for?" he asked.

"I need you to get me a gun," she told him, completely serious.

He paused, wondering if he'd heard her right. Then, he laughed out loud, but sobered up when he realized she wasn't laughing, too. "So," he started, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, " _you're_ gonna kill him?"

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"Your butler know?" he asked hesitantly.

"Alfred thinks he's gonna be the one to kill him, that's why I'm asking you," she told him.

Bruce scoffed. "Selina, you couldn't even let _Sterling St. Cloud_ die." He stood from the couch, getting slightly worked up, now. "So, how do you expect to do this?" he asked.

Selina went silent. He saw the cogs in her head turning, her expression becoming darker by the second. "Because this man killed my parents," she answered coldly.

Bruce shook his head. "You ever even fired a gun before?" he asked.

"Please, Bruce, you're the only person I can…" she started, turning towards him and lifting her gaze from the floorboards to meet his eyes.

"You don't even know what you're asking, Selina," he told her, intentionally using her real name instead of Cat. That's how serious this was to him. "What you're asking _me_ to do. Yeah, sure, the guy deserves it. But doing this, you won't ever, ever be the same."

She stood from the couch, doing her best to stand eye-to-eye with him (even though she was still half a head shorter). "That's what I'm counting on," she told him, her eyes determined and stubborn.

His jaw clenched and she saw the cogs turning in his head, probably trying to find a way to convince her otherwise. But she was set.

He nodded slightly. "Okay," he said in a small voice. "If this is what you want." He turned away from her and started towards the window, saying over his shoulder, "I've gotta make a couple calls. I'll contact you when I have it."

He never once turned back to her, not even offering a simple 'Goodbye'.

She knew his stance on killing, how doing this was probably hurting him, but she needed him to do as she asked. And she knew she could count on him.

He'd understand…someday…

* * *

Selina briskly entered the alleyway. She reached a certain spot and checked her watch. She was on time…

She felt something brush up against her leg, to which she gave a muffled shriek.

It was just an alley cat nuzzling up against her. She smiled and squatted down to pet it, to which it purred in approval.

"Hey," a familiar voice said from in front of her.

She looked up at Bruce, smiling down at her and the cat. "Hey, yourself," she replied, standing up as the cat strolled off.

Bruce checked over his shoulder before reaching into his pocket and producing a small metal object.

A revolver.

Selina stared at it, her body frozen. It looked so similar to the one that'd been pointed at her all those years ago. The one that'd fired two rounds. Hopefully, she'd only have to fire one.

"What?" Bruce asked in confusion at her hesitation. "You asked me for it."

"I know–" she replied apprehensively.

"If you don't want it…" Bruce started, already moving to put it back into his pocket.

"I want it," she stated.

Bruce peered at her and she got the feeling he could see straight through her. "You look scared," he told her.

"I'm not." She held out her hand for the gun. He could obviously see it was shaking, but she tried to remain as steady as possible. Finally, he shook his head and placed the revolver in her palm. Selina weighed it in her hand. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small object. "Is it loaded?" she asked.

"Ain't no point in an unloaded gun," Bruce replied smartly. "Guns aren't for show, Selina. They're dangerous."

"Of course," she said. "But that's the point, right?" She slid the gun into her coat pocket.

Bruce nodded, but stalled. "Selina, are you sure about this? There's no going back."

She sighed. "Yes. I'm sure."

He looked so sad. It occurred to her that he'd been in the alleyway that night, too. He'd seen everything she had. Hell, he'd probably seen worse living in the Narrows.

So her taking a gun, and using him to get it…

She wanted to apologize, but she didn't know for what. And if she did, her resolve might slip.

So, she turned away from him, quietly saying, "Thank you, B," over her shoulder as she walked out of the alleyway, leaving Bruce Kyle behind.

He'd understand…someday…

* * *

Alfred eventually came to, although it was in a hospital bed. They'd gone after one of Matches known associates, a giant of a man named Cupcake. And they found him, alright. Cupcake had agreed to give Malone's location in exchange for 50 grand, and a fight with Alfred. Alfred eventually won by a rear naked choke, but the victory had come at a steep price.

"How do you feel?" Selina asked tentatively.

"A couple of hours kip, and I'll come up lovely," Alfred replied hazily, still on a high from the drugs he'd been administered.

"Good."

"You stay here," Alfred told her weakly. "You ain't going nowhere till I'm up and about, all right?"

"Yes. I hear you," Selina responded.

"Promise me, Miss Wayne," he insisted, although his eyes were rapidly closing.

"Say again?" Selina asked.

Alfred fell asleep.

Selina removed the gun from her pocket, staring at it. She slipped it back inside and whispered to Alfred, "Sorry," before walking out of the room.

* * *

Selina approached the night club Cupcake had told them about. A bodyguard outside held up a hand for her to stop, which she did. A moment of panic passed through her mind, wondering what the man would do. She was clearly underage…

"Hey there," he said with a knowing smirk.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, keeping her voice low and her eyes narrowed.

He chuckled, nodding towards the door. "Have fun."

Selina gave him a quick mischievous grin before entering the club. Rock music was blaring and strobe lights lit the place up white and red. The main singer leapt off of the stage and crowd-surfed all the way up to Selina.

"Ha!" she exclaimed. "Hello, Selina. What took you so long?"

"I'm looking for Jeri," Selina replied coolly, trying not to be thrown off by the woman's odd appearance and makeup.

"Yeah, you are," the woman agreed, turning and saying, "Follow me."

The woman led her all the way through the club, past private rooms of scantily clad people doing things she couldn't describe without gagging.

Finally, they reached a room in the back of the building that looked like a cross between an office and a hair and makeup room. Jeri stepped inside and called, "Come. Take a pew. Iced tea? Soda?"

"No, thank you," Selina replied as the door was closed behind her.

"You like the show?" the woman asked.

Selina nodded. "I liked it. Are you Jeri?"

The woman chuckled. "Some people call me that." She took a seat at the makeup table and asked, "What? What can I do for you?"

"Oh… Sorry. You know my name, so Cupcake called you. I assumed you already know why I'm here," Selina told her.

"I just want you to say it," Jeri replied.

"I'm looking for Matches Malone," Selina stated.

"Why?"

"He killed my parents," Selina answered.

"What you gonna do if you find him?" Jeri asked.

"Ask him some questions." She paused. "Kill him."

Jeri laughed at her. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Killing people isn't, you know, that easy. Hey, maybe you've killed people before. You've killed people before, blood?"

"No," Selina replied simply. "But no one's killed my parents before."

Jeri nodded. "Well, Matches has killed dozens of people. Men, women, children. He's a professional." She turned around to the mirror and started working on her elaborate stage makeup. "And what exactly are you?" she asked.

"Do you know where he is?" Selina asked.

"Of course I know where he is, he's a friend of mine," Jeri replied. "You gonna give me a good reason to tell you where he is?"

"Justice."

Jeri laughed. "Oh please."

"Money."

"No. I don't care about money. Try something else."

Selina reached into her pocket and removed the small object. "I have a gun," she told Jeri.

Jeri looked up at her from the mirror and nodded. "That's a good reason."

"Please," Selina asked. "Tell me where he is."

Jeri rolled her eyes, grabbing onto Selina's hand and placing the gun at her forehead. "Come on, kid, you ain't even pointing it at me!" She chuckled as Selina removed the gun. "What is your problem?"

"I've been told it's unwise to point a gun at someone if you're not ready to shoot them," Selina told her. "And I'm not."

Jeri nodded. "Very wise young lady."

Selina turned and started to walk away. She paused and turned back to the woman, saying, "Thank you, Jeri. It's been interesting talking to you."

She started back towards the door.

"Matches lives in that big building on Grand Street between 9th and 10th," Jeri called. "Apartment 9B."

Selina stared at her in confusion. "Why did you tell me that?" she asked. "I thought he was your friend."

"He is," Jeri replied. "Well, he was. Matches is gonna be happy to see you," Jeri told her. "You, my girl, are the childish hand of fate. Well, that makes me God, in a way, doesn't it?" She chuckled and turned back to the mirror. "And who doesn't like to play God?"

* * *

Selina found the building pretty easily. An elevated train track ran next to it, causing the whole complex to shake when a train passed by. Lights flashed through the darkened windows.

She ascended up the steps quickly, attempting to put as much distance between her and Jeri's place as possible. Who knew when Alfred would wake up?

But, at the moment, she had a bigger problem.

Standing in front of her was an old, wore-down door with a big brass 9B on it.

She stared at it in hesitation.

Slowly, she raised her fist and timidly knocked on the door, keeping her other hand planted firmly on the revolver in her coat.

She paused.

A part of her was screaming at her to turn and run, but she didn't.

The deadbolt slid back from the inside and her throat and chest seized up. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

She looked down and, when the door opened, the first thing she saw was a pair of shiny black shoes.

She looked up.

She wanted to scream.

Standing across from her was Matches Malone. He looked older than when his photograph had been taken, his eyes sunken and his face appearing almost skeletal. His cold dead eyes looked at her without emotion.

"M-M-Matches Malone?" she stuttered out.

He nodded ever so slightly, humming a yes.

Her chest released, her throat unwinding itself as a new emotion took over.

Anger. Hatred. Loathing.

No word could describe how she felt in that moment.

All she knew: she was going to kill this man.

She reached into her coat pocket and removed a large roll of money, holding it out for him to see.

"I want to hire you," she told him calmly, her face settling into a relaxed smirk. It was odd. She felt more at ease now that she was lying to him. Now, the ball was in her court.

Malone gave a light chuckle. He stepped back into his small, smelly apartment and muttered, "Kids now." He grabbed a bottle of beer from the counter and Selina entered, closing the door behind her. He took a long swig of it and asked, "So you want to hire me?"

"I want someone to die," Selina told him. The best liars always tell the truth…she could thank Bruce Kyle for that one. And that statement was true. She did want someone to die.

Malone smirked, wittily saying, "Wait a while. They will."

"I can believe that…" she started, eyeing the man up and down. She'd seen skeletons in science class with more meat on their bones than him. "But I don't wanna wait."

Malone narrowed his eyes. "You're kind of young to be putting out contracts."

"I'm old enough," she replied. She cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Are you a proficient killer?"

"I thought you wanted to hire me," Malone complained. "You didn't say nothing about a job interview."

"I have to be sure I'm getting the right man," Selina told him.

"Don't you know a killer when you see one?" Malone lulled.

She scoffed. "Actually, you look very ordinary. Have you killed a lot of people?"

He shrugged. "I've killed all kind of folks just about every way you can. Rich, poor, guilty, innocent," he shook his head, making his way over to a small round table in the middle of the room and slumping into the chair. "By hand, by blade, by gun. Burn just one guy to death, they call you Matches the rest of your days," he said with a dark chuckle. "Life's funny, isn't it." Selina stared at him silently. He had no idea what was about to happen… "Cat got your tongue?" he asked. She stayed silent. "What's the matter, kid? You sick?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm fine. Nervous is all," she told him. But in truth, she wasn't. She was going to kill him and it didn't bother her one bit. "You seem to be the right man."

"Damn right, I am," he replied. He placed his drink down on the table and said, "Price starts at 10 grand or so for a simple hit on an adult male vic, then there's a sliding scale depending on how hard the job is. I charge double for women, and triple for kids." He poured himself another cup of whatever he was drinking and groveled, "No babies. I won't kill babies."

Selina shook her head in disbelief. "Ten grand? That's cheap."

Malone shrugged. "Low overhead. Who do you want dead, girl?"

Selina cocked her head to the side and took a few steps towards him, her hand absently drifting to her coat pocket. She shook her head and scoffed. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

He looked very confused. "Remember you?" He shook his head. "No. We've met before?"

"Yes, we've met before," she told him. Her hand started shaking, the confidence she'd been trying to build starting to crumble in the face of what she was about to do. But she had to see it through. If she didn't…he might kill her. Survival of the fittest…

She drew the gun from her pocket and leveled it at his chest.

Malone didn't even flinch, staring down the barrel as if it was more of a bother than an immediate threat to his life.

"You killed my parents," she stated, her voice cracking at the end.

This time, his eyes widened in surprise, although slight. "Oh…"

He leaned back in his chair, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Selina commanded.

He obliged, earnestly saying, "Relax, girly. I won't jump you. I could if I wanted to, but…" He sighed deeply. "I'm too tired." He looked up at her, asking, "Who are you now?"

"My name is Selina Wayne," she replied, her determined expression splitting into a sneer.

He nodded. "When was this we met before?"

"Two years ago," she told him, her confidence wavering. Maybe…maybe this wasn't the right guy… "An alley in the theater district," she elaborated. "You killed my mother and father, Thomas and Martha Wayne." She swallowed as the picture came back to her mind. "I was there."

He looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to remember. "Rings a bell…" he mumbled offhandedly.

"You looked right at me," she said quietly.

He spread his hands and shrugged, saying, "I was busy that year."

"My-my parents were important people," she stuttered, feeling tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes. In all the time she'd imagined how this moment would go down, all the different scenarios that'd run through her mind, this was not one of them. "It was a big deal in all the newspapers."

He shook his head. "I don't read the papers much. Don't watch TV. It's always the same bad news."

A tear broke free and streaked down her cheek. "You really don't remember?" she asked, her heart broken for a reason she didn't know.

"Oh, hey, some of 'em stick with you," he told her. "There was this mustached fella, he was a big fat crybaby, comes back to me in my dreams all the time, like he's important…" He shrugged. "I can't even recall his name. Did I stab him? Toss him off a roof?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

"My parents were in evening clothes," she started. "It was cold and wet." She saw him narrow his eyes, as if trying to remember. "You grabbed my mother's pearl necklace, it broke."

A wave of remembrance passed over his face, saying, "Oh…Oh, yeah. And the beads went everywhere," he described victoriously. "Coming back to me now. Nice looking blonde lady, silver fox type dude, and a kid…" He slowly looked up at her. "That was you?"

She swallowed. "That was me." She grit her teeth and spat out, "Who hired you?"

He shrugged. "Maybe nobody did. Maybe I just saw some rich suckers. Somebody like that walks into a dark alley, they deserved it 'cause they let it happen." He shook his head. "That's the way of the world, isn't it, child?"

"Don't call me that," she spat, raising the gun from his chest to his head.

"Why?" he asked. "If I did what you think I did, then I made you what you are. Just like Gotham made me. Just like the rich folks like your parents made Gotham." He chuckled. "I might as well call you my own child."

"I can make you tell me who hired you," she hissed.

"You think so?"

"I could hurt you. I can shoot you in the knee." She lowered the gun to his abdomen, the same place that Jack had lodged his own gun into Sterling's chest. "Or the stomach."

"But you can't make me tell you a damn thing," he replied boredly. "Killer's code ain't much, but it's what I've got. If I did what you say I did and someone hired me to do it, you'll never know their name," he growled. "Not if you take me apart piece by piece. You better believe that."

She gave a small nod, raising her other hand and pulling back the hammer of the gun. "Well, then I guess there's nothing left to say," she told him.

She saw his lip quiver as the hammer locked into place. He reached forwards slowly and took his glass, raising it into the air in a toast. "Here's to you, child," he whispered. "You've been a long time coming."

"You want me to kill you?" she asked confusedly. He nodded. "Why?"

"Little rich kid like you wouldn't understand," he told her, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Try me."

Malone looked close to tears, making him look even more pitiful than he already did. "A man gets tired," he said. "Doing wrong and going unpunished. Nothing happens. You start to wonder if there is a God." His lip quivered uncontrollably as he finished off his glass, setting it down hard on the table. He took a deep breath. "Tighten your left hand grip," he told her. "Aim right here," he said, pointing at a spot on his chest, the same spot where her parents had been shot, "a little low. She'll kick."

Time slowed down, the same way it had when her parents had been shot. Everything went silent, drowned out by the beating of her own heart. She got tunnel vision. This man ruined her life, he was evil, he'd killed dozens. He wasn't Sterling. He hadn't been forced to become this, he'd chosen to. He deserved to die.

She placed her finger on the trigger for the first time since she'd gotten the gun, aiming it a little low like Matches had advised.

For her parents…

She pulled the trigger.

There was a small click as the parts moved.

The hammer came crashing down.

She saw Matches close his eyes.

The hammer met its mark as the barrel rotated into position.

…

…

…

But there was no gunshot.

No crack like the one she'd heard in the alleyway.

The gun didn't kick back like Malone said it would.

No small, dark red dot appeared on his shirt.

Matches opened his eyes.

Panic seized Selina's body and she froze.

Then, Malone started laughing. "Misfired…" he muttered in between chuckles, reaching forwards for his bottle and glass and pouring himself another drink. "Well that must be a sign…"

Her arms slowly lowered as she shook in terror. What would he do, now?

She'd just tried to kill him…

He set down the now empty glass and held out a hand, saying, "Give me the gun, child." She didn't move a muscle. He roared, "GIVE IT!"

She moved forwards ever so slightly, just enough for him to be able to take the gun from her hands.

He shook his head and told her, "Now get outta here before I change my mind and finish the job."

Her eyes widened, "Finish the…" she started.

He raised an eyebrow and growled, "Go."

She slowly turned around and exited the apartment, not truly believing what had just happened to be a reality.

She'd gone there to kill him, and he'd shown mercy to her.

But she'd tried to kill him…and she would've done it…

What was happening to her?

* * *

Matches scoffed, unloading the gun's chamber onto the table. Six bullets clattered onto the surface. "Blanks…" he muttered with a small chuckle. "You were right about her, kid," he called. "She would've done it."

Bruce stepped out of the dark hallway off to the side.

Malone shook his head. "You got the payment?" he asked.

Wordlessly, Bruce reached into his backpack and removed a bottle of whiskey, the _Dalmore 62_. It was worth over a hundred-thousand dollars easily.

Malone sighed contently as he took it in his hands. "Now this right here, kid, is a bottle of alcohol. Been dying to try it…"

"Knock yourself out," Bruce growled as he passed Malone, making his way towards the door as quickly as possible. He wanted out of that house.

"Why'd you do it?" Malone called.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks. "What's it to you?" he asked over his shoulder.

Malone shrugged. "Oh, curious is all."

"She has no idea what killing someone would've done to her," Bruce replied. "Just look at you. I can't…I _won't_ let her become that."

"For her sake or for yours?" Malone lulled.

Bruce didn't reply and Malone smiled, popping open the bottle and pouring himself a large cup of it. He raised it in the air in toast and then threw it back. He set the glass down, reached into his pocket, opened the gun's chamber, and slid a new, live bullet into it. He placed it back on the table and poured himself another drink. "I've gotta say, kid," Malone started, "of all the jobs I've done in my life, this one paid the best."

Bruce exited the small apartment, leaving Matches to drink his life away.

He'd found him weeks ago, depressed at best and at worst, suicidal. But, he'd convinced him to do one more job. One last job.

If he had to guess, Matches Malone would be dead by dawn via suicide.

And Selina Wayne would remain alive, physically unscathed, and without the burden and guilt of a murder on her shoulders.

He knew that she wanted him dead, but he couldn't let her take that burden upon herself. She wasn't ready.

She'd understand...someday...

* * *

Alfred had looked everywhere for Selina, frantically screaming her names as he ran through the halls of the Manor. But she was nowhere to be found.

He opened the secret passage through the study's fireplace and bustled down the stairs, into the dark, cold room. "Miss Wayne!" he called.

No reply.

He about turned on his heel to search the house, again, but something caught his eye. A letter, calmly laying on the edge of the desk. His name was on it.

He opened it hastily and read:

 _Alfred,_

 _I've left home for a while to live on the streets with Bruce. Please. Wait and listen before you react. I need time to sort everything out. You needn't worry that I've lost my mind or that I'm in danger. I've thought about this decision long and hard, and I think it's the best one I can make right now. Bruce is going to help me control what I've been feeling over the past few months._

 _I've been on a downward spiral ever since my parents were killed, and it's only gotten worse as of late. I was too scared to help when the Maniax took you. I was too blind to see that Galavan and Sterling were manipulating me. I was ruthless when I got my hands on Sterling. Then I was completely okay with dying at his hands in order to help him._

 _And to top it all off, I tried to kill Malone. I pulled the trigger. But I got lucky._

 _I need to learn how to live in the same world that people like Matches live in, to try and correct the mistakes I've made and prevent new ones. To rebuild myself._

 _Bruce has given me a place to sleep and will show me the ropes. I know how you feel about him, but he knows Gotham better than anyone. He's been surrounded by the same things I'm dealing with for his entire life, and he's learned how to live in those conditions without being corrupted by them. So I can do it, too._

 _I'll be in touch soon, and I'll come home eventually._

 _Please, Alfred, trust me, and honor my wishes. Don't try to bring me back. I need to do this._

 _Sincerely, your good friend,_

 _~Selina_

 **A/N: This upcoming arc is literally my favorite of the whole show, so I'm super pumped for it! I'd like to point out that originally this post was going to be in the range of 8,000-9,000 words, but I decided to completely cut out the scene with Cupcake since I made no changes whatsoever to the canon events.**

 **Also, did anyone like the title? '** _ **Wrath of the Victim**_ **'? I'm really proud of that one. (The second half of Season 2 is called Wrath of the Villains for those who don't know) Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and make sure to review if you have any comments/questions/critiques or suggestions! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **PS. I've had an idea I've been kicking around in my head for over a year now for a series of inter-connected oneshots about Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle's adventures during this upcoming arc while they're living on the streets together. If you'd be interested, please let me know! (Preferably in the Review section since my Private Messaging system has been acting up as of recent).**


	22. First Things First

**A/N: This is gonna be a long Author Note, but if you're here for just the story you can skip this whole first paragraph. So, it seems like y'all are interested in the new project I'd mentioned in the last chapter. For clarification: it wouldn't be connected to my Roles Reversed AU, which I'd like to keep as its own standalone series. The new series would be about Bruce** **Wayne** **and Selina** **Kyle** **in canon. Because of that, I probably won't be expanding on this arc** _ **as much**_ **as I originally intended. Obviously I'm going to write more filler than what we were given in Episodes 14-17, but just not as much as I had first thought, probably only two or three more filler events/chapters than what we were given, plus the actual events of the show (so probably about 5-7 chapters for this arc, give or take). The new project will be debuting in the next week or two, so keep an eye out for the first chapter of** _ **The Escapades of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle**_ **.**

 **Also, I know I've been focusing on the plot and character development of Bruce and Selina as of late, but don't worry. This is a romance story at its core, and there's gonna be a BIG payoff for all this plot down the road. In the meantime, let's get back to what Baby Bat and Cat do best: risking their lives, flirting, and kicking ass. Although, not necessarily in that order.**

 **So with all of that said: here's Chapter 22. Hope you enjoy!**

 **First Things First**

Selina found him under an overpass, warming his hands over a bum fire. He glanced up at her as she approached, the firelight blazing in his dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow questioningly as she joined him.

He gave her a look which she interpreted as him asking if she was sure about this.

She nodded. She was. This was what she needed to do.

Wordlessly, he turned away from the bum fire and started towards the heart of the city. She followed closely after.

Not twenty seconds into their walk, a car drove by. A gunshot sounded from inside of it, the flash lighting up the cabin.

She impulsively looked towards the car.

"Don't," Bruce whispered harshly. "Don't look. Keep your eyes forward and keep walking."

She was a little surprised at the gruffness in his voice. He sounded completely worn out.

And yet when she'd called him in the middle of the night and explained her situation, he'd come all the way from the Narrows to meet her at the edge of the city without complaint. That's the kind of person he was.

They walked a few more blocks in silence, Bruce staring down anyone who looked even slightly suspicious. Finally, they reached a lit up area, somewhere on the East Side of Uptown.

"Are you hungry?" Bruce asked out of the blue.

She blinked a few times in surprise, not sure where he'd gotten that idea from. Then her stomach growled out loud and she nodded sheepishly. She hadn't even thought about food today, but she hadn't had anything since breakfast.

He smiled and she was reminded just how handsome he really was, especially when he wasn't scowling all the time. "Come on, Cat. I know a spot."

"It's three in the morning," she pointed out.

He nodded. "They'll be open. Just stay close. It attracts a certain kind of crowd…" he trailed off and she got the idea.

* * *

They walked a few more blocks before he stopped and turned towards a storefront. A cursive, neon blue sign read, ' _Nightcrawlers_.'

He held the door open for her and she stepped inside slowly. It was a smaller restaurant, only about a half dozen tables and a couple of booths. An old jukebox quietly played music in the corner. The majority of the customers, all rough-looking characters, were sitting at the bar.

Bruce came up next to her and held out his elbow. She took it, her apprehensiveness disappearing as he led her into the restaurant.

"Is that Bruce Kyle, I see!?" a guy from behind the bar called.

Bruce smiled and waved hello, saying, "Hey, Brick. How ya doin, man?"

The bartender made his way out from behind the bar, and Selina figured out why they called him Brick pretty quickly.

He resembled one uncannily.

He couldn't have been older than twenty, but he was a head taller than Bruce and at least three times wider. He smiled a big, toothless smile and hugged Bruce, who, surprisingly, hugged him back.

"I'm doin fantastic, man," Brick replied. "Where ya been?"

Bruce shrugged. "Everywhere," he answered before turning to Selina. "This is Cat," he told Brick.

Brick took her hand and kissed the top of it, saying, "Nice to meet ya, I'm Benny Bernstein. Friends call me Brick." He turned to Bruce and asked, "How'd _you_ find a nice girl like her?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, answering, "I have no idea, myself."

Brick shook his head saying, "Well, I'll throw a couple o' burgers on. Be out in ten or so. Sit wherever ya like."

Bruce nodded, shaking his friend's hand again before he lumbered off into the back.

They slid into a booth and Selina sarcastically asked, "Is there anyone you _don't_ know in this city?"

He shrugged. "Benny's an old friend. Good guy. Did a job for him, once."

"What kind of job?" Selina asked.

He smirked. "Stole something, nearly got caught, almost died, the usual."

She laughed. She'd missed this, just talking to him, no giant plot looming over the pair of them. Right now, they were two street kids having a meal, nothing more. After a few seconds of being lost in thought, she snapped out of it and realized she'd gone on silent.

"So…do we order?" she asked awkwardly, her brain now hyper-aware that she was about to have a meal with Bruce Kyle, alone, at night, in Gotham, just the two of them.

Was this a date?

Bruce shook his head and laughed. "They only have one option. But trust me, it's a _good_ burger."

She nodded and started fiddling with a napkin. "So…" she started, "what are we gonna do? Like, after this?"

Bruce shrugged. "I got a job on Tuesday night, figured you could tag along, but we can do whatever until then. You're the one who wanted to come out here in the first place, so what do you wanna do?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. What do you normally do?"

Bruce shook his head. "Depends. I usually don't get breaks in between jobs like this. I've been kinda distracted over the past month…" he trailed off, his eyes jumping over to the bar to scan the crowd.

He did seem distracted, but that was to be expected. He was a street-kid. He had to be wired at all times to stay alive.

He turned back to her with a smirk, saying, "I got a place set up for us a few blocks from here, but we don't have to _walk_ there…"

She smiled. "Rooftop?" she asked, excitement starting to fill her body at the prospect. She'd missed that more than anything else in Gotham, flying across the city skylines, teasing death for the hell of it.

He nodded. "There're a few gaps you might not be ready for yet, but we can go the long way around. You wanna?"

She nodded, now practically glowing with energy and excitement.

"Two Craw-Burgers for the happy couple," Brick announced, sliding two red baskets onto their table.

Selina blushed and glanced up at Bruce.

Thank God he was blushing, too.

Bruce thanked him quietly and dug into his burger. Selina picked hers up, but stopped when she got a good look at what was on it.

"Are there crawfish on this?" she asked apprehensively.

Bruce looked up from his plate and she laughed out loud. He looked like a chipmunk. He nodded and, through a mouthful of crawfish and hamburger, told her, "They're called Craw-Burgers for a reason."

Through giggles, she managed to take a bite of her own burger.

And he'd been right. It was ridiculously good.

After five minutes or so of cramming food down their mouths, Bruce sighed contently and called, "Hey, Brick! Can we get a check over here?"

From the bar, Brick shook his head and called back, "No need! It's on the house!"

Bruce stood from the table and approached the bar. "Thanks, man, but I'd be happy to pay…"

Just then, the roar of motorcycle engines echoed up the alley outside the shop. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned.

The front doors slammed open. Five men entered, bandanas pulled over their faces and cowboy hats angled low on their heads, all holding guns.

Selina started to get up, but Bruce held up a hand for her to stop. She sunk into the seat, trying to remain unnoticed.

The one of the front yelled, "No one move! Do what we say and we won't have an issue."

"Oi! I don't know who you think you are, but we got protection from Butch!" Brick called, moving out from behind the bar with a baseball bat in hand. "You ought 'a get outta here before I call him."

A gunshot fired and Brick collapsed to the ground, holding his left shoulder.

"Shut up!" the lead thief yelled. "One more word from you and I'll blow your damn head off, got it!?"

Bruce stepped in front of him, his hands raised in surrender. "Whoa, whoa. Everybody calm down. You don't have to do this."

The thief jammed the barrel of his gun into Bruce's forehead.

He didn't even flinch.

Bruce stared the man right in the eye and growled, "Put the gun down."

"Or what?" the man taunted, getting cocky now.

"Or you'll never walk again," Bruce told him simply.

"Oh really?" the man asked, chuckling. "And what're you gonna–"

Selina heard the man's leg snap before she realized Bruce had even moved.

By the time the lead guy realized what had happened and yelled out in pain, Bruce had landed two punches on another two guys, both of whom dropped quickly.

The fourth guy lunged at him, swinging his pistol like a club. Bruce knocked it away and punched him once in the gut and then again in the mouth.

The fifth guy was evidently the smartest of the group. He had backed up almost to the door, his gun leveled at Bruce's chest.

Bruce froze, realizing his position. He brain went into overdrive, everything around him slowing to a snail's pace. He was in the middle of the restaurant, too far away to make a charge at the man, nothing to throw, nothing to block the bullet with, he'd have to jump out of the way, but what then? What if the bullet hit someone?

A chair shattered over the back of the man's head.

Bruce's eyes widened in surprise as the man keeled over, landing hard on the floor.

Standing behind him was none other than Selina Kyle, the shards of a broken chair in her hands, breathing heavily with a wild, dangerous look in her eyes, her curly hair going every which way.

She'd never looked more beautiful.

He chuckled, saying, "Thanks for the assist, Cat."

She sighed, responding, "You're welcome. Let's not do that, again."

Bruce nodded. "Agreed." He turned back to Brick and helped him up. "You alright, man?" he asked.

"Yeah, just grazed me. I'll be fine." Brick nodded to the five men, either unconscious or groaning in pain. "That was a good fight, there, kid. Ted would'a been proud."

Bruce shrugged. "Nah, he wouldn't have gotten caught by that last guy. Anyways, we should get outta here before the cops show up. See ya, Brick."

Brick shook his hand and went back to the bar to call the GCPD.

Bruce took Selina by the hand and led her out of the restaurant. They jogged a few blocks and then ducked into an alleyway as a cop car blared past.

He leaned up against an alley wall and slid down it to the floor, chuckling. "Ya know, Cat, you wanted to know what Gotham was like. That was it. Desperate people do desperate things, sometimes people like me and you stop 'em. Others…" he trailed off. "Not so lucky."

She shook her head and joined him on the ground. "How'd you knock them out so easily?"

He grinned cheekily and reached into his coat pockets, pulling out a pair of brass knuckles. "Number one rule for surviving Gotham: always have an ace up your sleeve. This time, I had two."

She furrowed her brow. Two? As in two brass knuckles? Or…

"This time, I had a partner," he told her.

She probably blushed.

Oh, who was she kidding? She totally blushed.

"Partners?" she asked apprehensively. She hadn't done much, she'd just seen him in a tight spot and moved to help him. She hadn't even thought about it.

He nodded. "Partners. It's good to have someone to watch your back."

She nodded and then asked, "Speaking of which, who is Ted Grant?"

He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Haven't I told you about him?" She shook her head and he shrugged, saying, "He's my older brother. Well, kind of. He's the son of the guy I live with sometimes. He's the one who taught me how to fight."

"You have a family?" she asked, a little shocked. Why hadn't he ever told her about them? On some level, she was hurt that he hadn't told her about something so important.

Was that all he was hiding?

Bruce shrugged. "Like I said, kinda. Ted's dad, Henry, found me when I was little. After my mom left…" his voice disappeared as he clarified it, his hand drifting to his left breast pocket in his jacket.

She'd seen the contents of that pocket one time, back when he'd lived with her. The locket he'd found when she left. The one with the picture of the beautiful young woman, holding a blue bundle of blankets.

"I'm sorry," Selina told him, knowing that his mind had drifted to that subject as well.

He shook his head. "It's all good. I didn't really know her." He stood up and brushed himself off, offering her a hand as well. "We should really get going. I'd like to sleep a little bit before dawn."

She smirked and allowed him to help her off the ground. "Lead the way," she told him.

He eyed the wall across from them and, after a moment's hesitation, sprinted towards it. He ran up the brick surface three or four steps, latching onto the bottom platform of a fire escape, a move that she'd seen him do countless times.

He pulled himself over the railing and unlocked the ladder which she quickly ascended, joining him on the platform.

He started up the spiraling ladders, rising six stories before they reached the rooftop.

She stepped onto the edge of the building and took a deep breath.

This was where she belonged. She knew it.

"You done?" Bruce asked sarcastically.

She smiled, taking one last longing look at the Gotham skyline.

"Yeah, let's go."

She stepped down off of the edge and Bruce held out his hand. "Here," he said.

She gave him an odd look and reached out to take his hand in her own.

He laughed and shook his head, saying, "Thank you for holding my hand, Cat, but I was asking for your backpack."

"Oh…" she mumbled, knowing that her face had officially reached a fire-truck level of red. She removed her large, clunky backpack, filled with nothing but clothes and a water bottle, and handed it to him. "Sorry…"

Still chuckling, he told her, "No problem." He slung the bag over his shoulders and turned towards the first gap. "I just figured you shouldn't do your first jump while carrying something. We wouldn't want you dying an hour into your visit, now would we?"

And with that, he tore off towards the edge of the building, full sprint. She watched him go, timing his steps so he could launch off the rooftop at the last possible second. He soared through the air, arms spread wide, wind rippling in his over-sized jacket.

He landed gracefully in stride on the other side, clearing the gap by several feet.

He jogged to a stop and turned back to her with a grin, his hair ruffled and windblown, his cheeks tinged red from adrenaline. She forgot to breathe for a second. He called, "You coming or what?"

She shook herself out of her daze and backed up to the edge of her own roof.

A grin danced on her lips as she took a deep breath and sprinted towards the other side, savoring every second of it.

The immediate danger in front of her, yet her lack of fear.

A panicked sensation bubbling up in her stomach, but a crazy smile forming on her lips.

The wind roaring in her ears as she ran towards certain death.

She hit the edge of the building and took off.

It was exactly the same as the first time, yet wholly different.

She'd been nervous the first time she'd made a jump like this, driven only by the thought of Bruce leaving her behind. And, because of that initial fear, Bruce had had to save her when she'd come up short.

This time, however, he was waiting there expectantly on the other side, believing that she could make it without his help.

And he was right.

She cleared the gap, her feet slamming down onto the rooftop opposite, less than a foot between her landing point and the edge of the new roof.

She went to take a step, just like Bruce had done when he'd landed, but her leg had other ideas.

Against her will, her leg decided to give out under her momentum.

However, she dropped, rolled, and came up on her feet in one fluid motion, halting less than a foot in front of Bruce.

His eyes went wide in surprise. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked incredulously, a suspicious yet approving look in his eyes.

She smirked victoriously. "Gymnastics," she replied simply. "What, can you not do that, too?" she mocked.

He gave her a judgmental eyebrow-raise, but his grin ruined the look. "Okay, now, don't get cocky, Cat," he chided playfully. "If you're so confident, then we can take the short route home." He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, "Try not to die!" before starting towards the next gap.

She smiled and ran after him.

Oh, how she'd missed this.

* * *

She didn't die, although there'd been a couple of close calls throughout the run.

After about ten minutes of running, Bruce stopped abruptly on the edge of a random rooftop.

She came up next to him and asked, "Why are we stopping?"

He smirked. "Because, Cat, this is the place," he told her, tapping the gravel-covered roof with his foot. He stepped onto the fire escape and descended a few floors, stopping three stories above ground level.

It seemed like any other random abandoned warehouse in the city. But it seemed familiar…

"Wait a second," she started, eyes wide in recognition. "I know this place."

Bruce smirked as he leaned up against the brick wall of the building. "You should. I'd be worried if you didn't."

He reached out with his hand and placed it on the stained, darkened glass window next to him.

He pushed, and a grid of window panes swung open like a door.

He smirked and climbed through the opening, saying, "Welcome home, Cat."

She stepped inside after him and quickly realized why she had recognized it. The interior had been changed, morphed into a space suitable for two people to live in, but the layout was mostly the same.

"This was where…" she started.

"Clyde the Fence worked," Bruce finished. "Yeah. Where you almost got kidnapped and I almost got killed."

She shook her head in disbelief. The main room was set up as a living room/kitchen space, equipped with a stove and refrigerator, microwave, cabinets, everything. A large couch sat in the center across from an old TV that looked like it still ran on radio antennas. There was a small table with chairs sat up against a window, one of only two or three windows which weren't blacked out. Three doors led out of the room.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he asked. "That one's your room," he said, pointing to the door on the far left, "the bathroom," he said, pointing to the one in the middle, "and my room," he finished, pointing at the door on the far right side.

She nodded in disbelief. "I can't believe you did all of this."

Bruce shrugged. "I've been living here on and off for a year or so, now, ever since Clyde got carted off. Most of the stuff was already here. Just needed a bit of cleaning up."

She nodded wordlessly. So _this_ was his world? It wasn't too bad, after all.

"Well, I'm gonna go to bed," he told her. "See ya in the morning."

She nodded. "Right, see ya."

He turned and started towards his bedroom door.

"Wait, Bruce," she called.

"What's up?" he asked, turning back to her.

She paused for a moment. "Thank you…for everything," she told him sincerely.

He smiled. "It's my pleasure. Goodnight, Cat."

"G'night, B," she replied, opening her bedroom door and slipping inside, shutting it softly behind her. She threw her backpack onto her bed and leaned up against her bedroom door, sliding down it and sitting on the floor.

She smiled to herself.

How her luck had changed.

And it was all thanks to Bruce Kyle.

Whatever they did tomorrow (or today rather, since it was already four in the morning), she wasn't worried.

Dangerous or not, although it'd most likely be dangerous, whatever they did, she'd be okay.

Not safe. She'd never be safe, not in Gotham. But she'd be okay.

She had Bruce to protect her, after all.

And when the time came, just like tonight, she would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

 **A/N: So, I've actually really enjoyed not having a new episode this past week. Not having to write a Night-of-Episode-Oneshot gave me a ton of time to work on _Roles_ and my new series coming soon, **_**Escapades**_ **. I've really enjoyed Season 5, no matter how depressing it's been from a BatCat perspective, but the roller coaster of emotions that the pairing is is what makes the whole thing fun to watch.**

 **Anyways, make sure to follow/favorite so you don't miss my next upload, and if you enjoyed or have any comments/questions/critiques about this story, or any suggestions for scenes and chapters in** _ **Escapades**_ **or** _ **Roles**_ _ **Reversed**_ **, please review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	23. Unbreakable

**A/N: Here's Chapter 23!**

 **Unbreakable**

"Why can't you just tell me where we're going?" Selina asked. She was sick of him being so secretive about this job, the first real job he'd had since she'd arrived in the city.

For three whole days, all they'd done was run across rooftops, hang at the Flea, and occasionally pick-pocket some chump who deserved it. Sure, it was fun, but that wasn't why she was there.

"All you need to know is that we're stealing something from someone," Bruce told her, suddenly turning and walking down another alleyway.

She jogged to catch up to him and stated, "Bruce, I don't know if you've noticed, but it's noon."

Bruce nodded. "Exactly. Who'd expect to get robbed midday?"

"No one because it's a dumbass idea," she retorted.

Bruce smirked, asking, "Cat, have I ever led you wrong?"

"Yes. Several times," she replied flatly.

He rolled his eyes and told her, "Well this isn't one of those times. If all goes well, we'll be in and out."

"Well I hope it all goes horribly wrong, then," she stated.

In hindsight, she should've been careful what she wished for.

* * *

Bruce eventually stopped at a staircase that led down to a basement door. He removed a key from his jacket and let the pair of them inside, locking it back behind them.

Selina's eyes went wide at the room. She'd been expecting a vacant, dirty basement like the majority of Gotham cellars, but this room was nothing like that. It looked like an underground greenhouse, rows and rows of small plants in trays lining the room, lit only by dim blue light bulbs. The smell of the plants felt like a smack in the face.

But most importantly, they weren't alone in the room. A tall girl, probably around 18, with long ginger hair swept about the greenhouse, tending to the plants.

"Hello?" Selina asked apprehensively.

The girl looked up from the plants for the first time. She was stunningly beautiful.

The young woman smiled, but not at Selina. "Hey, Bruce," she lulled in a husky voice, standing up straight and throwing her hair back over her shoulder.

Bruce nodded. "Hello," he said simply, turning to Selina.

He looked nervous.

Why did he look nervous?

He placed a hand on Selina's back and told the girl, "This is my friend, Cat." The woman looked at Selina for the first time, giving her a small, insincere smile. "Cat…" Bruce started, "this is–"

"Ivy Pepper," the young woman interrupted, stepping forward to shake Selina's hand.

An alarm went off in Selina's head. "Pepper?" she asked slowly. "Like the…"

"Guy who shot the Waynes?" Ivy finished. "Yeah, he was my father."

"Oh," Selina murmured. "I'm sorry–"

"Are you kidding?" Ivy interrupted. "Good riddance, I say."

Selina spluttered in surprise. "But, he was your father…"

Ivy rolled her eyes and sighed, saying, "He was. And he liked to beat my mother. And he liked to 'take advantage' of me. So, like I said: good riddance." She stepped into Selina's personal space, lowering her voice so only the two of them could hear. "Believe me, Cat: men are awful. Although…there are exceptions…" she lulled, throwing an obvious glance at Bruce.

Selina took a step back so her and Bruce's arms were touching. "Yeah, I know," she told the young woman, brushing up against him.

There was a beat of silence in the room, Selina and Ivy staring each other down while Bruce was awkwardly stuck in the middle. He cleared his throat and reached out to one of the boxes of plants, asking, "So, Ivy, did you get everything set?"

"Don't touch that!" she whispered harshly. Bruce raised his hands in surrender and backed up. She shook her head exasperatedly and returned to working on the plants, saying, "Yes, everything is ready."

"So, what is this place?" Selina asked.

"Ivy works for a gang that runs the magic mushroom trade," Bruce answered.

"What's a magic mushroom?" she asked.

Ivy huffed in annoyance, only fueling Selina's growing contempt for her. She dully answered, "Some give you visions; some give you energy. Some help you sleep. I've cultivated over a dozen kinds. There are some that help you grow, too, if you'd be interested," she told Selina with a fake smile.

Selina rolled her eyes and turned back to Bruce, asking, "What are we doing here?"

Bruce nodded towards the ceiling, saying, "The gang is run by Gilzean's nephew, Sonny, and his merry band of losers."

"So…these mushrooms are illegal?" Selina asked.

"Yes, very illegal," Ivy told her patronizingly.

"Which means there's always a ton of cash around," Bruce said, ignoring Ivy's snide remarks to Selina.

"You're going to rob them?" Selina asked.

"Yup."

Selina nodded slowly. "Okay, how do we do it?"

" _We_?" Ivy asked indignantly.

Bruce gave Ivy a weird look, like she'd sprouted a second head or something. "Um…yeah. We're partners," he told Ivy flatly, with just a hint of pride in his voice.

Ivy suddenly looked very uncomfortable, which only made Selina happier.

She raised an eyebrow and turned back to her plants wordlessly.

"Okay…" Selina started. "What's the plan?"

"Meet _Psilocybe Arkrescens_ ," Ivy started boredly, gesturing to the plants in front of her, "also known as the Blue Devil."

"She slipped a few of them in the gang's lunch today," Bruce told her, "so all we have to do now is wait."

"What will they do?" Selina asked.

"Instant death," Ivy replied in a mellow voice. "You wanna try some?"

"She's kidding," Bruce told her. "They'll be in a state of relaxed bliss, like a dream."

"How long until they're out?" Selina asked.

Almost as if on cue, something big and heavy collapsed on the floor of the room above them.

Bruce smirked. "Right about now."

* * *

Bruce tentatively pushed the upstairs door open, whispering to Selina, "Be quiet, someone might still be awake."

Slowly, he crept forwards, opening the door into the main hallway. The room stunk of rotting food and body odor, as well as some not-so-legal substances, but there was no sound coming from within.

He rounded the corner, Selina tight on his heels. Inside, six or so men were laying about unconscious, several in precarious positions.

He silently stepped over a goon lying face down on the floor, and approached an old recliner. A thug was slumped into it, firmly holding onto a light blue cookie jar, which Selina thought was odd.

As they got closer, however, she saw what was inside. Rolls and rolls of cash, all tightly bound with rubber bands.

Bruce stepped up behind the man, reaching over the back of the recliner and taking hold of the top of the can. Achingly-slowly, he began to remove it from the man's grasp.

He was halfway there when everything went wrong.

The man's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Bruce in shock and confusion. "Who…who are you?" he started, seeming nervous and reaching for a nearby shotgun.

Selina reacted before Bruce had time to respond, saying in a smooth, calm voice, "Hey. Hey, we're no one. You're…dreaming," she lied. She decided to roll with it, smiling at him and asking, "Pretty cool, huh?"

The thug stared at her for a few moments, and Selina thought that he'd seen right through her.

Then he smiled in a hazy, drunken way, responding, "To-o-otally…"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Listen, if you give us the coffee can and close your eyes, you'll be able to fly."

"Aweso–"

Bruce hit him hard in the side of the head with a brass-knuckled punch.

Selina rolled her eyes, saying, "I had that."

"I know you did," Bruce told her while hastily stuffing his pockets with rolls of cash. "But we have a small window…"

Tires screech outside the building, and Bruce's face went even paler than normal. He looked Selina dead in the eyes and simply stated, "Run."

She didn't wait for further instructions, leaping over the unconscious man on the floor and tearing off down the dimly lit hallway, Bruce right behind her.

Light filled the hall as the front door opened, although it was quickly blocked by several human shadows, and large ones at that.

They were only a couple of feet from their exit, from escape.

Then a man yelled, "Woah! Where're you goin'!?" and a shotgun fired, the bullets hitting the staircase above their heads.

Both teens stopped dead in their tracks, hands raised in surrender.

The man lulled, "Hey, Kyle."

Bruce slowly turned around to face the newcomers, and Selina did the same. The one in the front who'd fired the shot was short and very, very stout, with a neck beard and a short, scrunchy face that only a mother could love.

Actually, on second thought…no mother could love that face.

"Hey, Sonny," Bruce responded in a flat tone. "You lose weight?"

The man, Sonny, chuckled darkly and raised his gun again, chiding, "Keep cracking wise, Kyle. You ain't gonna be smiling when my uncle gets to you." His guys snatched the money out of Bruce's hands and his coat, removing his pair of brass knuckles while they were at it. They took hold of Bruce and Selina's arms, dragging them back into the room full of unconscious men.

Selina whispered to Bruce, "How do you know this guy?"

Bruce scoffed, asking, "You remember what I said about doing a job for Brick, robbing someone?" She nodded. Bruce gestured to Sonny, and she got the picture.

Sonny whipped out his cell phone, muttering as he typed in a number, "Oh, you're gonna get it this time."

His henchmen brought the pair of them to opposite sides of the room, two holding onto Bruce, the larger threat, and one holding back Selina.

After a minute or so of waiting, and then another minute of Sonny demanding whoever was on the other side of the line to get his uncle, Butch Gilzean, on the line, he roared, "Well, tell my uncle to call me!" and abruptly hung up.

Bruce snickered and shook his head mockingly, which Selina thought was out of character for him.

Sonny apparently took notice as well.

He turned on him and started, "Look, I know you think he's got a soft spot for you, but I'm pretty sure that's gonna change when he finds out you tried to rob him."

Bruce furrowed his brow and smoothly replied, "My guess is he's not gonna be too happy with you, either, when I tell him that I just waltzed in here and grabbed the cash, especially after last time..." Sonny's jaw clenched, his two brain cells probably trying to figure out if that was a threat or not. "So, maybe you let us go, and we call it even?" he proposed in a calm, reasonable tone.

"What kind of message would that send?" Sonny asked him. "No. The Gilzeans are all about consequences," he told him, turning to Selina with a menacing smile.

"More like all about pizza," Bruce muttered, although too loudly. Sonny turned back to him, flames in his eyes.

Now, Selina knew something was off. She'd never seen him tease and torment someone like this before. It just wasn't like him.

What was he doing?

Sonny nodded to the two guys holding Bruce's arms, and they released him, shoving him towards Sonny. Sonny grabbed onto his wrist and the scruff of his neck, slamming his head down onto table covered in magic mushroom. "You ever try our product, Kyle?" he growled, grinding his face into the wood.

Bruce cringed as he ground his face into the table. But he wouldn't fight back. Not right now. He could take whatever physical reprimands the human marshmallow could dish out. He'd suffered through worse. He'd be fine.

He had a purpose, and as long as he focused on it, he could take anything.

He'd be unbreakable.

Then, Selina had to get in the way. "Stop!" she yelled, attempting to lunge forward towards them, although she was easily pulled back by Sonny's goon. She continued, "He isn't fighting back! Aren't you being rather cowardly, assaulting him?"

Bruce's heart dropped.

What was she doing?

He had this under control. "Stay out of this, Cat," he warned, trying to communicate what he was doing.

Sonny ignored him, throwing him back towards the pair of goons and turning on Selina again. "And who is this, Bruce?" he asked, reaching out and caressing her jaw with a finger. "Your girlfriend?"

"You're a fat lard, you know that, Sonny?" Bruce taunted. "A cowardly, weak pile of horse shit."

He turned away from Selina again, glaring at Bruce like a bull seeing red. "What'd you just call me, Kyle?" he asked, venom in his voice.

"You're a coward," Bruce repeated, keeping his chin held high as Sonny approached.

He moved quickly for a big guy, landing a hard punch in Bruce's stomach. Bruce's left knee buckled, but he refused to fall. "You want another one?" Sonny asked.

"You're an ignorant, brutish–"

Sonny swung again, this time taking all the wind out of Bruce's lungs and knocking him to the floor.

He groaned in pain, but he'd taken worse punches. Nothing Sonny could dish out would ever be as bad as Ted's punches. He could take this. But this wasn't sparring with his older brother. This was real. Life or death. And he had a reason to take this beating.

For now, he'd be unbreakable.

On the other hand, all Selina could see was Bruce getting his ass handed to him, encouraging Sonny to keep doing it. "Stop!" she yelled again, trying to struggle free of her guard's grasp.

What was he doing?

Needless to say, Sonny ignored her. "While you're down there, kid, like my boot," he spat.

"ENOUGH!" she screamed, causing the whole room to go dead silent. Sonny turned back to her. "He's not fighting back, you piece of–"

Bruce watched from the floor as Sonny swung at her with a closed fist.

Selina reeled, her left cheek stinging horribly, stars dancing in her eyes. She looked up at Sonny from the ground, his closed fist raised in the air. "You wanna finish that sentence?" he threatened.

Selina looked past him at Bruce.

Fear.

That was the only word to describe what she felt when she locked eyes with him.

But it wasn't fear for her safety, or his.

It was for Sonny.

She'd never seen someone look so angry in her life.

His eyes were practically exuding flames.

She offered no response, so Sonny turned back towards Bruce.

But it was too late. The first two men, the ones who'd been holding Bruce down up until then, were already on the floor, blood dripping from their noses and mouths respectively.

Sonny was able to let out a single, strangled scream before a storm of Bruce's fists descended onto him.

The guard who'd been holding Selina rushed to help his boss, pressing his gun into Bruce's head.

His fatal mistake was getting too close.

In a single motion, Bruce removed the barrel from his head, kicked the man's leg out from under him, and kneed him in the face.

Bruce took the gun, a sawed-off shotgun like the one Sonny had used, and flipped it around so the barrel was facing the ceiling.

Then, he proceeded to use the butt of the gun as a club, slamming it into Sonny's face over and over again.

She froze in surprise and shock as his level of violence.

After half a dozen clubs, Sonny went limp, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Bruce emptied the gun of its rounds and tossed it to the side.

He brushed himself off and held his hand out to Selina.

She stared at him for a moment, hesitantly. She'd just witnessed him beat a man half to death, the pure look of rage in his eyes leaving her frozen in fear.

But now, the look was completely gone, the fire still there like always, just to a lesser intensity.

In its place was Bruce Kyle, _her_ Bruce Kyle. Whatever had taken over him was gone.

She smiled weakly and took his hand, allowing him to lift her from the ground.

He suddenly took her face in his hands and she froze again, although for very different reasons than before, her stomach clenching up in anticipation. Then, she realized he was just checking where she'd been hit, and the moment was gone. "I'm fine," she told him. "Let's just go."

Bruce nodded, wordlessly filling his pockets with rolls and rolls of cash, as well as his pair of confiscated brass knuckles.

It suddenly occurred to her that he'd taken down two full grown men with a single bare-fisted punch each.

She was very, very glad that they were on the same side.

"Okay, that's all I can carry. Let's go before Butch shows up," he told her.

She nodded and they whisked out of the building, choosing to take the rooftops back to the Factory.

* * *

Bruce held a cold steak to her cheek gently. She cringed in discomfort, but told him that it was okay.

His eyes dropped to the floor, leaning up against the back of the couch. "I'm sorry, Cat," he told her.

She sighed. "Bruce, it's fine…"

"No, it isn't," he stated. "It shouldn't have gone down like that. I knew the window of opportunity would be small, but I went through with it anyways and you got hurt…"

"Bruce," she started tenderly, placing a hand on his knee. "I'm fine. It's okay. This is what I wanted anyways, to see Gotham for what it is."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ ," she started, removing his hand and the steak from her cheek, "that I learned a lot from Sonny. Sure, people care about money and all that, but there are other things that matter even more to them. For Sonny, it was his reputation. You used that against him…to protect me," she stated.

She'd been mulling over the events of the past day over and over, and had realized exactly what he'd been doing while taunting Sonny.

Every time he had threatened her, Bruce moved Sonny's attention back to himself.

He'd been protecting her, at the sacrifice of his own wellbeing.

He looked surprised, but before he could say anything she continued, "For you, that thing is people. You protect them."

Bruce scoffed and told her, "Selina, I hate to break it to you, but I steal from people. I'm a criminal."

She shook her head. "No. You're a sheepdog."

Bruce stared at her in silence for a beat, and then broke out into laughter. "What did you call me?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded with a stubborn look on her face. "You're a sheepdog. You're all happy and nice until someone threatens your flock."

He smirked and shook his head in amazement. "That may've been the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She rolled her eyes and handed him back the steak. "Well don't get used to it."

He took it and threw it back into the freezer. He pulled out a pair of sodas and called over his shoulder, "Hey, Cat." She turned and he stated, "I'm glad you're here."

She smiled. "And that may've been the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

He smirked. "Ya know, there's a baseball game on tonight. You wanna stay out here and watch it?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, sounds fun. I'll make the popcorn."

And so they'd go off into their rooms, change into pajamas, and lay out on the couch as the Gotham Rouges played across the bay at the Metropolis Titans on the TV. They sat on the opposite ends from each other, sharing one giant blanket that Bruce had.

At some point, they'd both fall asleep, facing away from each other but comforted that the other person was there.

However, Bruce, too, had been pondering over the events of the day. He'd gone through a lot of pain, but had come out virtually unscathed. And there was a reason. True, he'd taken quite the beating, but as long as he had Selina Wayne by his side, he was unbreakable.

 **A/N: So, this story happens to be in an alternate universe in which major league baseball starts in December (which is when I think this arc begins). But, if we're being honest, that isn't the craziest thing that's changed in this AU. I hope you enjoyed and if you did please make sure to favorite/follow so you don't miss out on future uploads. And if you'd be so kind as to review, it would be very much appreciated! Your feedback is what I write for, after all. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **And the first chapter of** _ **The Escapades of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle**_ **should be coming out by this Saturday if anyone was interested.**

 **The following paragraph is me talking/ranting about several leaks and spoilers for future episodes/events in Gotham, so don't read it if you don't want to get spoiled. You have been warned.**

* * *

 **So, I'm a little bit miffed with Gotham at the moment. First, a picture leaks of a different actress supposedly playing Selina Kyle for the "10 Years Later" thing that they're doing towards the end of the season, who, mind you, looks ABSOLUTELY NOTHING like Camren (actress who plays Selina), and then pictures start circulating of what Jeremiah looks like after Ace Chemicals and…just…NO! NO! NO! NO! YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS GOTHAM!? THIS IS WORSE THAN HIS CGI SMILE AT THE END OF SEASON 4! AND CAMREN ALREADY LOOKS OLD ENOUGH TO PLAY AN OLDER SELINA KYLE SO WHY WOULD YOU RECAST? JUST GIVE HER A SHORTER HAIRCUT AND DYE HER HAIR BLACK OR SOMETHING AND BE DONE WITH IT! IT'S JUST SO DUMB! AND ON TOP OF THAT TO MAKE CAMERON (actor who plays Jeremiah) LOOK LIKE HOT GARBAGE?! I MEAN, IT'S ACTUALLY SO BAD! IT'S TIMES LIKE THESE THAT MAKE ME MISS JEROME GODDAMMIT!**

 **I'm gonna take a breath now.**

 **I just absolutely LOVE Gotham and I was really excited going into its final season, and I think it's been really good so far. The Chemical Green Band trailer makes this upcoming episode look amazing, and I'm pumped to see it. But it feels like they've been just now hitting their stride and then, out of nowhere, they go and do stuff like this for basically no reason? I just don't get it. I'm not too angry about the choice to reconstruct Jeremiah's face after he eventually falls into the Ace Chemicals vat, but I'm really pissed about Camren being recasted, especially in the culminating episode of a series that she's been a major part of for over five years. It just doesn't make sense.**

 **Now, I do trust that the writers have something up their sleeves and that everything will turn out okay in the end, but stuff like this has me worried at the moment. I don't want the show to go down as a good series with a meh, or even bad, ending. It deserves better. Like I said, I love this show. I've published over a dozen stories for it, and I've invested literally hundreds of hours into watching and writing about it. But I just don't want to be left with a sour taste in my mouth when the show ends. I trust that it won't turn out that way, but that's just how I'm feeling right now.**

 **Your thoughts? (Also, please don't include any spoilery things in your reviews/messages. I don't want to lose any more of my ignorance to future events than I already have) (And you can probably tell how emotional I was getting by how much I used the words 'that' and 'just')**


	24. Night Life

**A/N: I usually post a BatCat Night-of-Episode-Oneshot every Thursday night after the episode airs, but I couldn't think of anything, especially since there were no Bruce/Selina interactions. So instead of that, here's Chapter 24! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Night Life**

Ever since the incident with Sonny, Bruce had seemed different.

It wasn't necessarily a _bad_ different, but he was different nonetheless.

He seemed more tired in the mornings. At first, she'd theorized that he was feeling regret for what he'd done to Sonny and his goons. But it became apparent to her that that wasn't the cause after he nearly did the same thing to another group of gangbangers who'd cornered them.

His tactics were less brutal with them than what he'd done to Sonny, but he still left the majority of them unconscious or rolling on the floor with a broken appendage.

No, he either didn't feel guilt about what he'd done, or, more likely, he was repressing whatever he was feeling. And she knew how good he was at repressing stuff like that, so it didn't seem likely that that was the cause of his fatigue.

There was something else, too.

She'd see him before she went to bed, and the next morning he'd be sporting a new cut or bruise that hadn't been there the night prior. She tried to mention it to him, but every time he'd shut her down quickly and change the topic of conversation.

She had a couple of ideas of what he was doing at nights, none of them good, but she had to know for herself.

She told him goodnight before gingerly shutting her bedroom door. She quickly changed back into street clothes, and then sat on the bed and listened. The Rogues/Titans baseball game was playing on the television, so that made it difficult to hear what else was happening in the room, but she caught the slightest sound of his footsteps.

He apparently crept into his bedroom, leaving the television on to mask the sound of his door closing.

Selina slipped out of her own window and made her way to the rooftop, walking across to the other side and then descending down the opposite fire escape to pear into his window.

Was she being a creep? Yes. Had she done this before? Possibly. Did she feel bad about it? Hell no.

At least he had a shirt on, this time.

Although, it was a different shirt than she'd ever seen him wear. In fact, she'd never seen him wear any of that outfit, before.

He looked like he was about to go paintballing, wearing a long, black shirt, black motocross pads and cargo pants, a leather jacket, and a pair of black combat boots, complete with a black paintball mask strapped to his belt, the visor of which was tinted heavily.

He wrapped his hands in black tape and then slid his pair of brass knuckles into the pockets of his jacket.

Maybe it was hardcore paintball?

Selina crept back up to the roof, watching as he slipped out of his window and descended the fire escape to the streets.

She couldn't believe him, going off on adventures without her.

Did he think she couldn't hang, anymore? That she couldn't keep up with him?

She'd just have to show him otherwise.

* * *

Bruce felt like he was being watched as he walked through the city. He kept glancing around, trying to find the source of his discomfort, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Maybe it was just his nerves. He was going into battle, after all. At least he was going in with someone he trusted, someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Now, that wasn't to say that Cat didn't know how to handle herself, especially in a fight, but not having to worry about her wellbeing made his job much easier.

All he had to worry about was not dying.

That may've sounded simple, but not tonight. Tonight, they were hitting a big one, a decisive blow.

And who were they hitting?

Ever since Gilzean had taken over the mob, he'd allowed the criminals of the city to conduct themselves as they saw fit, as long as they paid their tariffs on time. Human trafficking had always been a problem in Gotham, but Falcone, Maroni, and Penguin had all looked down upon it.

But now? It was fair game.

So when Bruce had robbed an auction house with Garfield and saw how horrible it was becoming, he'd set out to destroy the trade in Gotham, one warehouse at a time.

It didn't take much to convince his partner, either. All he had to say was 'fight' and 'injustice' and he was on board.

They'd been doing this for over a month now, freeing over two hundred young women, but the traffickers were still getting their money out. And their accolades hadn't gone unnoticed, either. The GCPD took most of the credit for the raids, since Bruce or his partner would call them and report the incident after it was all over, but that was fine by them. Neither Bruce, nor his partner wanted the attention.

Speaking of whom, his partner was late to their meeting point.

This night wasn't starting off as well as he'd planned.

* * *

Selina followed him from the rooftops for several blocks, making their way deeper and deeper into the heart of the city.

Small gangs roamed the streets as they always did, but none of them gave Bruce any trouble. After about five minutes or so of walking, he suddenly stopped, looked over his shoulder, and, seeing no one, removed the paintball mask from his belt and slipped it over his head, pulling his hood up to completely hide his identity.

What was he up to?

He stood at the corner for almost a full minute, waiting for something.

That something came in the form of a black van, which screeched up next to him as the side door flew open. He climbed in and the van went tearing off into the night.

Yeah, that wasn't good for Selina.

She sprinted across the rooftops, trying to keep up with the van. She lost sight of it a couple of times, but got lucky as it always seemed to pass back underneath her.

It was heading towards the Midtown Bridge, but veered off the main road at the last moment.

It finally stopped in front of a small, abandoned warehouse on the riverside. Selina perched on the rooftop of an adjacent apartment building, watching safely from above.

Bruce stepped out of the van, as did the driver. The driver was just taller than Bruce, but at least twice as thick. And that wasn't to say he was fat. Even from a few dozen feet away, she could see the guy's muscles ripping through the sleeves of his shirt. Comparatively to Bruce, he had no protection on whatsoever, wearing sneakers, dark jeans, a navy jumper, and a mask similar to Bruce's.

The guy pointed towards the left side of the building, and Bruce nodded, jogging off. He proceeded to scale the wall to the third story window, slipping inside.

The other guy went straight in through the front door, carelessly throwing the door open and letting it slam.

Clearly, he wasn't going for a stealthy approach, unlike Bruce.

On impulse, Selina descended from her perch and crept across the street to the warehouse, taking the same path Bruce had used to get inside. She was halfway up the wall when she heard the first gunshots erupt. There were several surprised screams as bodies dropped hard to the floor.

She quickened her pace, reaching the windowsill just as another gunshot fired, hitting and shattering a pane right over her head.

There was one last defeated grunt as another man collapsed to the floor, and Selina slowly peaked into the room.

Bruce was standing over the last guy, his back to Selina's window.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and everything went slow. The guy Bruce was standing over wasn't the last one. There was another one, with a gun aimed at Bruce's back.

Without thinking, Selina launched herself through the window, doing a somersault and coming up half a dozen feet in front of Bruce's would-be attacker. She closed the gap quickly, kicking him in the front of his leg, dropping him to his knees. She mimicked a move she'd seen Bruce use a thousand times, taking the man by the back of the head and then slamming her knee into his nose.

His eyes went hazy and she released him. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Bruce had whipped around, watching her fly through the window, and then quickly and efficiently knock his attacker's brains out with a brutal knee to the face.

He couldn't have been more proud.

Then the implications of her being there dawned on him, and he was suddenly less proud. "What are you doing here?" he asked exasperatedly and a little louder than he'd meant it.

Her brow shot up her forehead in challenge. "Oh, you know, just saving your life," she replied with a sarcastic malice.

"I had that handled," he told her.

Selina nodded mockingly. "Of course you did, you were just gonna let yourself get shot in the back, right?" she challenged.

"Not exactly," a new, deeper voice interjected.

Selina whipped around to see another person emerge from the shadows, but this one she recognized.

It was the short, bulky guy who'd entered the building at the bottom floor.

He removed his mask and smirked, telling her, "That one was mine, but you beat me to the punch." He glanced over at the unconscious man and nodded approvingly, saying, "Nice work, though."

She sent eye daggers at Bruce, saying to Ted, "Thank you. At least someone can appreciate–"

"What are you doing here?" Bruce interrupted.

"I could ask you the same question!" she retorted.

"I'm working," he told her flatly.

"And I thought we were partners," she started, the anger in her voice being replaced by real hurt, "but I guess I was wrong, huh?"

"Selina, this is different. These people don't play around," Bruce told her. "You could've gotten really hurt." He eyes dropped to the ground and he stared holes in the floor, the room falling into a tense silence.

"So…" the other guy started, "you wanna introduce me, Bruce?"

Bruce nodded, quietly saying, "Cat, Wild. Wild, Cat."

"Wild?" Selina asked.

He shrugged, saying, "My nickname." He stuck out his hand and told her, "Ted Grant."

Selina looked over at Bruce, who was still staring at the ground. "Your–"

"My older brother," Bruce finished, finally looking up at her. "Yes, that one."

Selina shook Ted's hand and he started, "So you're the famous Cat I'm always hearing about."

Selina glanced at Bruce again, suggestively asking, "Always?"

"Oh, yeah. Kid never shuts up about you," Ted told her with fake exasperation.

"Ha-ha, Ted, you're hilarious, but we need to go," Bruce interrupted, suddenly seeming flustered. "Cops will be here any minute."

Ted sighed. "He's right. Well, it was really nice to meet you, Cat," he told her, shaking her hand again. "Watch out for him, will ya? He's a real idiot, sometimes."

Selina scoffed and nodded. "Yeah, no kidding."

"I am standing right here," Bruce interjected.

Ted rolled his eyes. He pointed to Selina and told him, "And you, keep her safe, got it?"

"I'll keep her as safe as she'll let me," Bruce replied.

"Which is not at all," Selina added.

Ted shook his head, saying to Selina, "Well then, let him. And trust him. He's the one person in this godforsaken city that won't let you down, ya here me?" Selina nodded. "Good. Now get outta here, both of you."

* * *

They walked back to the Factory in silence.

Bruce held the window-door open for her and she muttered a small, "Thank you," before rushing off into her room and slamming the door behind her.

She sighed, throwing herself onto the mattress. She still had many, many questions for him, but she didn't know where to start. So, instead of addressing the matter and moving past it, she let it sit there the entire walk home, the tension between them festering and growing more and more as the seconds passed.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts.

"What?" she called, sounding more agitated than she actually was.

"Selina, can I come in?" Bruce asked apprehensively.

"Do whatever you want," she replied flatly.

Slowly, the door creaked open. He'd changed out of his armor, into a pair of sweatpants and a big hoodie. He was holding a small paper bag.

"What do you want?" she asked after he simply stood in the doorway for a solid ten seconds.

His eyes dropped to the floor, but he chuckled, saying, "I'm really not sure."

She curiously eyed the bag in his hands. "What do you got there?"

He looked at the bag and sighed. "Cat, I trust you," he told her.

She scoffed. "Funny way of showing it." He cringed and she continued, "How long have you been lying to me?"

He shook his head. "I didn't mean to–"

"Well you did," Selina told him coldly. "You said we were partners, that you trust me, and then you go off without me."

"I _do_ trust you," he repeated. "But I don't…" he stopped mid-sentence. He took a deep breath and told her, "Selina, that place, was a storehouse for human-traffickers. There were half a dozen girls there, all around your age, chained up and getting ready to be sold."

She was stunned into silence.

He continued, "And when I see them, all I can see is you. So what would happen if I got killed and you were there? If I couldn't protect you? The same thing almost happened with Clyde last year. I wasn't willing to take you with me because I couldn't live with myself if I sentenced you to that. That's why I went with Ted, why I left you behind. Because…" he trailed off.

"Because?" she pushed, anxious to hear his point.

"Because you weren't ready yet," he finished. "Because I haven't prepared you enough, yet."

"So?" she asked.

"So, I'm going to do just that," he told her, handing her the package.

She opened the bag and found a switchblade. But it wasn't just _a_ switchblade. It was _his_. "You're giving me this?" she asked apprehensively.

Bruce nodded. "I won't be needing it anymore. Besides, I can handle myself just fine with these," he told her, pulling his brass knuckles out from his hoodie pocket.

She scoffed. "Do you shower with those, too?" she teased playfully.

Bruce smirked, telling her, "I never leave home without 'em. And that goes for you, too, now. You take that thing everywhere, always."

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Bruce."

He shrugged. "So, are you still mad at me?" he asked apprehensively.

In response, she simply cocked an eyebrow and flicked the blade open.

Bruce nodded meekly. "Got it. Well, goodnight, Selina."

She chuckled. "Goodnight, B."

She sat up in bed for a while, opening and shutting the blade over and over until flicking it open felt natural.

After half an hour, she crawled out of bed and silently cracked her door open. She crept across the hall, quiet as a mouse, and peaked into his bedroom.

He was sound asleep, snoring away.

She smiled to herself and shut the door, content that he was safe.

At least, for now. She was still pissed that he'd lied to her, and he'd get what was coming to him.

But only _she_ got to hurt him. He was her partner, after all.

 **A/N: So this episode was pretty decent. I missed Selina, especially after the not-so-satisfying ending between them last episode, but the stuff with Bruce was really, really good this week nonetheless. I do wish Penn and Scarface would've been around longer, though, since I really enjoyed that character. But more importantly, the trailer for next week! HOLY MOTHER OF JEREMIAH IT LOOKS GOOD! Let me know in the Review section who you're rooting for: Bruce or Selina?**

 **I hope you enjoyed and if you did or have any comment/questions/critiques about this story or any of my other projects, please Review! And if you haven't already, make sure to Favorite/Follow so you don't miss out on my next update. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	25. A Bridge Between

**A/N: Okay, so I went back and fixed the whole 'Selina older than Bruce' thing in Chapter 2. That one's my bad. Thanks to the reviewer Kitcat for letting me know. I think it'd been pointed out before, but I just never got around to fixing it. I'd also like to thank you all again for your continued support on this series, my oneshots, and** _ **Escapades**_ **. It really means the world to me that people are reading what I'm writing, and after only a year, this story is twenty-five chapters long and 100k words! I would've never been able to do it without you and your support, so thank you. And speaking of chapters, here's chapter 25! Hope you enjoy!**

 **A Bridge Between**

"We should climb the Midtown Bridge," Selina suggested out of the blue.

Bruce, halfway through a bite of his burger, looked a little surprised at the random proposition. They were at one of his favorite diners. It was all the way across town from the Factory, but it was well worth the trip. _Nightcrawlers_ was good, but it didn't hold a candle to this place. So where she'd gotten the idea to visit the Midtown Bridge, Bruce had no idea. "Where'd that come from?"

She shrugged. "Well, I was thinking of what we should do today, and then I started thinking about what we did at the Manor for fun," which also reminded her of their prank war that was never officially called off, meaning it was still ongoing, today… "and then I started thinking about you teaching me how to balance, and then I remembered you suggesting we go to the Midtown Bridge to climb it, and then I remembered us getting chased by assassins, so we never did, did we?"

His eyebrows were almost at the ceiling. "Okay, then," he commented in a taken aback voice. All he'd been thinking about was his burger… "So, we never went. So what?"

" _So_ , we should climb it, today. It'll be fun."

Bruce shrugged. "I've climbed it before. It's not that great…" he trailed off with a slight uptake in his voice. He was suddenly very interested in his burger.

"Oh, really?" she questioned, her intuition telling her that something was up. Why would he not want to climb the bridge? He'd been the one to suggest it when they were younger. What had changed? She rolled her eyes. "Well then, I guess I'll have to 'climb the damn bridge on my own'," she told him accusatorily.

Bruce cringed, remembering the harsh words he'd said to her just before the assassins had shown up. He huffed in defeat. "Fine," he muttered.

"Fine what?" she dragged out.

He rolled his eyes but answered, "Fine, I'll take you to the bridge."

Selina smirked victoriously, picking off one of his fries. "Good. I can't wait to see what's up there."

"Wouldn't be so sure about that…" Bruce muttered to himself, too quiet for her to hear.

They finished their burgers and fries, Selina mowing hers down in a matter of minutes while Bruce tried to eat as slowly as possible.

Yes, he had originally proposed to take her up there, but that was before. Now, over a year and a half later, taking her up to the top of the bridge meant serious problems. Maybe he could throw her off the scent… "Ya know, I heard there's this new place opening over on the Southside. It's supposed to be like the Flea just bigger, and there's gonna be a grand opening party tonight. You wanna check it out?"

She threw up a single eyebrow, as if asking, 'Really? That's the best you got?'

And truthfully, it was.

He didn't have a reason to not take her up there…at least, not one that didn't accompany even more questions.

"Maybe after," she lulled, staring out the window with a small smirk.

He sighed in defeat and returned to eating his meal at a snail's pace. Unfortunately, the food inevitably ran out. He asked if she wanted to get desert, he'd pay for it, too. But no. The check came, they paid for their food, and the next thing he knew she was leading him through the city towards Midtown.

* * *

He tried to convince himself that he could turn this around. Maybe she'd get scared when she saw how tall the bridge was? If they did go up there, maybe he could steer her clear of it?

He could pull this off…he had to.

Now, was this whole situation avoidable by a simple outing of the truth? Yes, yes it was. Was the truth even that bad? No, no it wasn't.

But he couldn't do it, not by his own free will anyways.

He'd explain when they got up there, when she inevitably found it. He'd clarify the whole situation and everything would be okay. Right?

Right?

Midtown was usually a fifteen to twenty minute walk from the diner, so how they got there so fast, Bruce didn't know.

By the time they crossed 8th and West Avenue, she could see the bridge. It wasn't the tallest structure in Gotham, not by a long shot, Wayne Enterprises soared over it like most of the skyscrapers, but it was the tallest structure in Gotham that you could climb bare hand.

And after several weeks of practice on climbing and freerunning with Bruce, she was ready to test herself.

It looked a lot taller up close, though.

Standing at the base of it, she couldn't see anything near the top. The thought of falling from that height…her stomach started churning.

Bruce sighed, leaning up against the base of the tower they were about to climb. "We don't have to do this today, Cat," he told her. "We can come back another time and–"

"NO!" she responded, louder than she'd meant it. She cleared her throat and repeated, "No. We're doing this, right now."

"Selina, you're literally paler than me, right now," he pointed out.

She pushed out a shaky breath. "I'm fine. Just nervous. Besides, I want to see what has you so scared."

Bruce sighed and went to pick the lock to the service door. He was actually trying to _not_ open it, figuring he'd 'break his lock pick' and they'd have to come back another time. But no, of course he couldn't do that because the universe hated him. Instead, the lock popped open within two seconds, probably damaged from the sheer amount of street kids who'd already picked it.

He muttered a curse, but slowly pushed the door open. Inside was a single, old, rusty ladder, ascending over a hundred feet before it reached the next platform. There were no rings to keep you from falling, nor any guarantee that the ladder would hold up under your weight.

This was the great filter of the climb. If you had the guts to use the ladder, the climb up the side of the bridge would feel like nothing.

He glanced over at Selina, who'd somehow gone even paler than before.

"You sure about this, Cat?" he asked. "We really don't…" He sighed. It was no use. He could see the determination in her eyes, wordlessly telling him that any attempts he made were futile. They were climbing this bridge, right here, right now. "Fine, then. I'll go first," he told her, stepping towards the ladder and taking hold of the third rung up. Funny thing about that rung: it was loose, and would pop out entirely if you put any force on it.

So that's exactly what he did.

He heard her yelp as the rung clattered to the floor.

"Oh yeah," he commented boredly, "watch out for those."

And without a second thought, he hoisted himself up, past the missing rung and onto the fourth. So he went, higher and higher, very aware of Selina staring a pair of holes into his back. He wasn't even fazed by this climb; he'd done it multiple times, after all.

His stomach went void at the thought, suddenly reminded of _why_ he was trying to keep Selina from going up the bridge. About halfway up, he intentionally shook the ladder, making it creak and groan under the stress.

Selina gasped from down below.

He looked down at her with his best attempt at a fearful expression. "You still sure about this?"

She looked about ready to be sick, but nodded.

Dammit.

He continued up, each rung he passed making the growing weight in his stomach even heavier.

He reached the top and hoisted himself onto the small Catwalk that led to the second service door.

There were no railings on the platform, so he sat down on the edge with his legs dangling off precariously.

"Come on up!" he yelled down at her.

He couldn't see her very well from that far away, but he had a pretty good guess as to what she was feeling.

She froze, staring at the ladder.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

No. It wasn't a good idea. But that was the fun part, right?

So, swallowing any good sense she had left in her, Selina stepped towards the ladder, took hold of the fourth rung, and hoisted herself up.

The second she was on the ladder, she realized just how stable it actually was. Given its appearance, she would've assumed that it could come crashing down at any minute. Yet, when she started to climb, it felt solid and sturdy.

As she got higher and higher, the ladder's solidity never coming into question, a fire lit in her stomach.

Bruce had been trying to scare her…

Oh, he was gonna pay, big time.

She scaled the ladder in record time, any fear she once had replaced by the determination to royally kick Bruce Kyle's ass.

When she pulled herself up onto the platform, he looked almost as sick as she had been standing on the ground.

He offered her a hand, but she ignored it, asking, "Okay, what the hell is going on, Bruce?"

Bruce shook his head. "What do you m–"

"Don't lie to me," she cut him off. His mouth snapped shut. "What is going on with you?"

He sighed, turning his back to her and walking towards the service door. As he picked the lock, he told her, "It's complicated, okay? I'll explain everything when we get up there."

"Oh, so _now_ you want to take me up there?" she drawled accusatorily. "What's with the change of heart?"

He shrugged, finally getting the door to open and turning back to her. "I know I can't stop you," he answered honestly, before walking out of the ladder room and out onto the balcony of the initial tower.

She followed after him, stepping out onto the tiny terrace. Sprouting out from the concrete structure were dozens of steel beams and braces, leading up to the top of the bridge. It honestly didn't look like that difficult of a climb…

"Follow me," he told her abruptly.

And so they wordlessly scaled the Midtown Bridge, Selina retracing the route Bruce took. The climb was easy, and they made it all the way to the top without taking a single break.

Bruce hoisted himself up over the peak of the bridge, then assisted Selina up and over it as well. Surprisingly, the peak of the Bridge resembled a ship's crow's nest, although it was square and stretched over a dozen feet across. And for some reason, there was a park bench in the middle of it, bolted to the floor.

"How did…" Selina started.

Bruce chuckled and shook his head, sitting down and telling her, "No one knows. Some think the people who built the bridge put it here; some people think aliens did it. If you ask me, I think someone had too much free time."

Selina smiled at his rare attempt of a joke.

She stepped up to the edge and took a deep breath. It was beautiful up there, a single place in the center of Gotham where the smog and soot dispersed, the air clear and semi-clean.

"It reminds me of Wayne Manor, up here," she commented offhandedly.

"What?"

She turned back to him. He had a weird, confused expression on his face. "I said it reminds me of Wayne Manor," she repeated.

He hummed. "Yeah, I heard you. Just…since when do you call it 'Wayne Manor'?"

She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, just…it's weird hearing you call it that. You always called it the Manor or home or whatever. Just sounded weird, is all."

Selina shrugged, but the realization hit her hard. She didn't view the Manor as home, anymore.

When did that happen?

She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts and returning to the task at hand.

"So," she started, slowly walking towards him, "why didn't you want to bring me up here?"

His eyes dropped to his feet. He opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly, not sure how or where to start this conversation.

Instead, he simply pointed to the North-facing side of the platform, the wall to the bench's left.

She slowly walked over to it. It was littered in little scratches and carvings. As she got closer, she realized that they weren't random or meaningless. They were letters, words, names; all of them in pairs and encased in hearts.

She'd been scanning the wall for less than ten seconds when she found it. She didn't initially register what she was reading, but it eventually dawned on her. Her heart sank slightly and she suddenly felt very, very awkward.

"B + Z," she read aloud. Bruce cringed, refusing to look her direction. "In a heart."

She scoffed and he cringed even harder. He knew this was going to happen, that she'd eventually find out…but he hadn't wanted it to be like this.

Granted, he'd had over half a year, four weeks of which she'd been living with him, to tell her about his relationship with Zee, but he'd never brought it up. He hadn't been able to.

"You're an idiot," she practically whispered, still facing the wall.

"Selina…please, just let me–"

"You really think that _this_ warranted lying to me?" she asked, doing a complete 180o, both physically and in where Bruce thought this conversation was going.

He stammered and stuttered in surprise, eventually getting out, "I thought–"

"Yeah, well you thought wrong," she interrupted. "Bruce, do you really think I'd care if you and Zee used to be a thing? That it warranted lying to me? And for what? To protect me?"

Bruce nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much exactly that…actually…" he trailed off.

She rolled her eyes, starting towards him suddenly. He flinched, expecting to be punched in the face or kicked in the groin, or at least slapped on the arm, but it never came.

Instead, she sat down next to him on the park bench. "Well, you didn't need to protect me. And…I know your intentions were good, but…" she stalled and gently placed a hand on his own, "I want you to know one thing…"

He nodded for her to go on.

The next thing he knew, she had a fistful of his collar, and her other fist cocked back and ready to unload on his face. She'd pulled him so close, they were practically breathing the same air.

"If you ever, _ever_ lie to me again, I will throw you off this damn bridge, got it?" she hissed.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his voice cracking horribly on the word "ma'am".

She smiled. "Good," she stated, before taking his shoulders in her hands and planting a quick peck on his cheek.

He smiled like an idiot, stupidly asking, "So, you're not mad at me?"

"Oh, no, I'm mad as hell. And you're gonna pay for this," she told him flatly. "But in the meantime, we have a party to get ready for."

She stood from the bench and climbed over the side of the platform before realizing he hadn't even stood up yet. "You coming or what?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I'll meet you down there. Just…give me a minute."

She narrowed her eyes, but nodded. "Fine, but make it quick."

Bruce nodded as her head disappeared over the edge. He waited until he was certain she was actually climbing down, and then stood from the bench.

He removed a rock from his coat and went to work on the floor of the concrete platform, first carving a B, then the plus sign, then the C.

When he was done, he stood up on the park bench and looked down at his handiwork.

He'd abstained from drawing a heart around the initials. It felt cheap and tacky, just like the rest of the smaller carvings. Besides, what he had was nothing like what those people had. Those other people had a boyfriend or a girlfriend or even just a crush, but he had something more.

He had a partner.

And her name was Cat.

And he'd never lie to her again, for fear of being thrown off the Midtown Bridge, as well as knowing what was on top of it.

Whatever this place had meant to him before, it held an entirely different meaning, now.

It was a single spot between their two worlds, a bridge between, connecting them. And if he ever thought to try and protect her from the truth, this place would remind him of the pact he'd signed in stone.

But for now, he had a party to get ready for.

 **A/N: So, there's probably only going to be one or two more chapters for the remainder of this arc. However, the next and final arc for Season 2 (which I can't believe I'm almost done with, already) is the Azrael and Indian Hill arc, and I'm really excited for it, especially since I'm going to be taking many,** _ **many**_ **artistic liberties with when I rewrite the plot.**

 **And this is a little off topic: but I had no idea how difficult it would be to write** _ **Roles**_ **and** _ **Escapades**_ **series at the same time. I keep getting them confused, so it's almost a relief that I'm nearing the end of the arc in Roles. Twice now I've caught myself switching their personalities at the beginning of Chapters.**

 **But anyways, I hope you enjoyed and if you did or have any comments/questions/critiques about this story (or ideas for new** _ **Escapades**_ **chapters), please Review! Your feedback is why I write, after all. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **And, for those asking: Yes, they will eventually find out about the whole switched at birth thing. I've had that part of the story fully plotted out since I started this project. There have been subtle hints about it throughout the series, but a full-scale development is coming soon, so be prepared cause it's a damn big one.**


	26. Everyone Hates Bruce Kyle

**A/N: I said it in my last post, but I'll say it again for those of you who didn't see it: Yes, Bruce and Selina will find out about the whole switched at birth thing eventually. But it's gonna take time. I have almost five full seasons to work the overarching plot through, and I'm gonna take advantage of it. I have neither forgotten about that plotline, nor the Ra's one. It's all part of my master plan :) Now for the story:**

 **This one picks up right after the last chapter, so make sure you read that first! Here's Chapter 26 and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Everyone Hates Bruce Kyle**

The turnout was bigger than he'd expected.

The yet-to-be-named street mall in the southeast corner of the city was twice the size of the Flea and about as far from the GCPD precinct as you could get, making it even more appealing to members of Gotham's criminal underbelly.

"Wow…" Selina muttered, gazing wide-eyed at the long line of people waiting to get into the warehouse. She was decked out in the best street-clothes she owned: her combat boots, a pair of thick, black leggings, a short plaid skirt, Bruce's black Gotham Rogues hoodie (which she had made him wash, first), and her favorite leather jacket.

"Wow is right…" Bruce agreed, although he wasn't only talking about the crowd.

The line moved relatively quickly, each guest being thoroughly searched for weapons, with a few exceptions for higher-ranking criminals and mob bosses.

Bruce and Selina finally made it to the front, Bruce reluctantly handing over his pair of brass knuckles and Selina surrendering her switchblade.

He offered his arm to Selina, who took it, and they strolled into the party. Bass shook the floor in waves and there was a sharp stench of alcohol in the air. Although it was technically a mall, all the furniture and clothing racks had been pushed to the side, the main middle area reserved for a mosh-pit of people dancing.

"This is crazy!" Selina shouted over the blaring music.

Bruce nodded, and looked like he was about to reply when he suddenly went pale, staring fixedly behind her. Selina turned, noticing a group of heavily tattooed guys standing around off to the side, staring back at Bruce.

Speaking of Bruce, he latched onto her hand and yanked her along as he made his way deeper into the warehouse.

"Who's that?" she called, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

"They don't like me," he replied simply.

He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, causing Selina to slam into him from behind. She peered over his shoulder and saw a group of Asian guys, all probably in their twenties, and one of whom was casually holding a machete at his side.

Bruce's grip on her hand tightened even more as he turned left and went deeper into the crowd, away from the gang.

"Who's that?" she repeated.

"They don't like me, either," he called over his shoulder.

Not a dozen steps later, Bruce slammed on the brakes, again. Selina managed not to run into him, getting a good look at another group of men, each with slicked back hair and wearing elegant suits. But they were glaring at Bruce with utter hatred in their eyes.

Bruce turned on a dime and dragged her away from them.

"Who's that?!" she demanded.

He stopped and grabbed her shoulders, telling her, "Let's just assume, for the moment, that everyone here doesn't like me."

"Really? Because you're such a charming guy…" she muttered.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "We just need to find Ted, and we'll be fine."

"What?" she asked, anchoring her heels in the pavement and forcing him to stop and face her. "Bruce Kyle scared of a fight?" she mocked.

Bruce shook his head. "I'm not scared. I just pick my own fights; I don't let them pick me. And I sure as hell ain't fighting the Trucks or the Triad, right now."

"Why do they all hate you anyways?"

Bruce shrugged. "I'm a thief. I've probably stolen something from half the people in here. But as long as we stay with the right people, we'll be fine."

"You mean _you'll_ be fine," she stated. "I'm not a part of this."

"The hell you are! You're just as much a target as me, Miss _Wayne_ ," he replied with a mock bow, earning a light slap on the arm for his trouble.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Kyle. But, for now, we are at a party…so…"

She grabbed his arm and dragged him into crowd of people.

* * *

He seemed reluctant at first, but she got him into it. The DJ helped by playing three songs in a row that Bruce loved, and by the fourth, they were in the center of the pit of people, screaming lyrics and singing and dancing and all around having the time of their lives. She loved seeing him like this, just a (somewhat) normal kid dropping his walls for once and actually having fun. She loved tough, scary, thief-extraordinaire Bruce Kyle, but this side of him was even better.

He loved seeing her like this, too. She'd gone through way too much crap for someone their age, and yet here she was, happy. Seeing it made dropping his walls way easier than it otherwise would've been, especially surrounded by a group of people whom half wanted to kill him.

Things were going great, too great.

Halfway through the fifth song, someone tapped Selina on the shoulder.

She turned and found none other than Zee Zatara herself, dressed in a short black and pink dress and a men's biker jacket, looking fantastic as always.

Before Selina could utter a word of surprise, Zee had her arms wrapped around her neck in a hug, exclaiming, "CAT!" She stepped back, running her hands all over Selina's outfit and hair before taking her shoulders in her hands and asking, "How've you been? I haven't seen you in, like, ever!"

Selina blinked a few times in shock. She hadn't seen Zee in the whole six weeks she'd been in the Narrows, and had all but forgotten about her until earlier that day. Selina nodded, slowly replying, "I'm fine, how've you b–"

"And Bruce, dude! You look so good!" Zee exclaimed, moving on from Selina and wrapping her arms around Bruce's neck.

Selina almost laughed out loud at the look on his face. She'd never seen him so uncomfortable, before. He placed a tentative, almost fearful, hand on her upper back, simply replying with a squeaked out, "Good."

She let go and stepped back, taking in the both of them. She smiled and told them, "You two look so freaking cute together! How long have you been a thing?"

"We're not!" they both half-shouted simultaneously, which didn't seem to help their argument.

Bruce cleared his throat and Selina answered, "We're not. Bruce is just giving me a place to crash."

Zee nodded slowly, seeming skeptical. "Right… Well, anyways, how've you been, Cat? I heard through the grapevine that you were back in Gotham, and I kept meaning to visit."

Selina nodded. "I'm doing great. How about you, Zee? What're you getting up to?"

Zee shrugged boredly. "I'm a waitress the Artemis." Selina knit her brow and Zee elaborated, "It's a woman's only club in the theater district. Pays well enough. I've learned a ton, too."

Selina gestured to Bruce (who was still as stiff as a board), telling her, "Bruce has been teaching me all about Gotham and the Narrows and stuff."

Zee cocked an eyebrow. "Why? Aren't you a billionaire or something? What's there to learn?"

Selina smirked, elbowing Bruce in the side. "That's what _he_ said." Zee giggled and she continued, "But I want to make an impact, change Gotham one day, and that all starts here."

"That's so thoughtful of you!" Zee told her. From anyone else, that phrase would've seemed disingenuous or sarcastic, but Selina didn't think Zee could physically do either one of those things. "But, a word of advice: people don't change easy."

Selina's brow shot up her forehead, surprised by how serious Zee had become all of a sudden. She nodded slowly. "Thanks. That's good to know."

Zee shrugged and told them, "Well, I'll let you two get back to it. See ya around, Cat, Bruce."

Selina waved goodbye and Zee strutted off into the crowd, disappearing from sight.

When she was gone, Selina glanced up at Bruce. He was still frozen stiff. She placed a hand on his arm and shook it. "Hello? Earth to Bruce! You can breathe now."

He let out a long, deep sigh. "It's stuff like this that proves the universe it out to get me," he complained with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least it's over. Though, I'll admit, the timing was pretty flawless."

He scoffed. "Let's just forget that all that ever happened."

"No way!" she told him with a cocked eyebrow. "The look on your face was priceless."

He rolled his eyes and took her hand. "I like this song," he told her, obviously trying to change the subject.

She shook her head, but smiled. "Whatever, Kyle."

They went back to dancing, Bruce trying to push the interaction from his mind. What were the odds of him seeing Zee for the first time in months on the same day that Selina had found out about their relationship?

Could the universe cut him a break, just once?

"Bruce! There you are!" a familiar gruff voice called through the noise.

"Thank you," Bruce muttered, throwing a grateful look up to the sky.

Ted was walking up to them with his date, Helena.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Bruce called, bro-hugging his older brother. Bruce nodded to his partner, saying, "Helena, beautiful as ever," and hugging her as well.

"The famous Bruce Kyle," Helena greeted in a thick Russian accent. "How've you been?"

Bruce shrugged. "I'm staying alive." He put a hand on Selina's back and told her, "Helena, this is Cat. Cat, meet Helena Bertinelli."

Selina shook her hand, but threw up an eyebrow in recognition. "Bertinelli? As in Bertinelli Corporate?"

Helena nodded. "Yes, my father is the CEO. Why do you ask?"

Selina shook her head, having to remind herself that she was Cat, a street kid, not Selina Wayne the billionaire. "Just wondering."

While they were talking, Ted whispered to Bruce, "Did it ever occur to you that we're both dating billionaires, now?"

Bruce elbowed him in the side. "Me and Selina aren't dating."

Ted rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying we're playing way outta our league."

"Speak for yourself, ugly ass–" Bruce retorted, earning a punch in the stomach.

"Well I need to use the toilet," Helena told Ted. "Behave yourself while I'm gone."

Ted scoffed as his date walked off, escorted by a pair of bodyguards.

Selina shook her head in confusion. "Why would Helena Bertinelli be at a party like this? It doesn't seem like her crowd."

Bruce and Ted laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Selina didn't join in. Ted threw up a surprised eyebrow. "You don't know?" he asked.

Selina shook her head and Bruce told her, "The Bertinelli Family runs the whole Southside of Gotham for Gilzean. They're just as dirty as any other company in Gotham. How else would they get so rich?"

"Brucey!" another voice called from the crowd.

He was much, much, much less thankful to hear that voice than he'd been to hear Ted's.

Suddenly, there was a long, gangly arm around his shoulder, and a psychopath standing next to him

"Hey, Jack," he muttered.

Jack grinned widely and turned to Bruce's two companions. "Selina, looking good. Ted, likewise. You mind if I borrow him for a minute?"

He didn't wait for an answer, squeezing down on Bruce's upper arm and dragging him off.

Before he disappeared into the crowd, Bruce was able to yell to Selina, "Stay with Ted!"

She watched him go, stunned into shock and unable to protest before he'd already vanished.

"I hate that guy," Ted told her.

Selina nodded. "What's up with him, anyways?"

Ted shook his head. "No idea, but he's got something loose up there."

"Should we go after him?" she asked apprehensively.

Ted sighed, seeming to deeply contemplate the suggestion. "No. Bruce can handle himself. He'll be fine. But stay close, for now."

He offered an elbow, which she gratefully took. She felt vulnerable without her trusty bodyguard around.

"Ted!" a voice called, and a guy, probably in his mid-twenties, stepped out of the crowd to greet him. He was obviously wasted, if not evident from his walk and his bright red cheeks, from his horrendous breath.

Ted nodded hesitantly, saying, "Hey, Mick. How's it going?"

Mick smiled widely. "Dude, you wouldn't believe some of the girls in here!" He belched. "Though, you seem to have found a pretty little lady, yourself," he lulled, eyeing Selina up and down.

"She's my sister," Ted told him flatly, with a murderous look in his eye. (It must've been a family thing)

Mick didn't get the memo. Instead, he threw his arm around Selina's shoulders and drawled, "Is that sssso? Well then, you want me to show you a good time, love?"

"I'm fifteen," Selina stated.

Whatever high that guy was on disappeared real quick.

His bright red cheeks drained of color, and he abruptly turned around and walked away without another word.

"Sorry about that asshole," Ted told her.

She shook her head. "No problem." She hesitated, giving him a funny look before asking, "Sister?"

He shrugged. "You might as well be. You and Bruce are already living together, after all."

Her cheeks went as red as Mick's had been. "We're not…it's not…that isn't…" she stammered. "It's not like that."

Ted held his hands up in surrender. "Relax, kid. I'm just teasing, I promise. But, either way, I'm glad Bruce has someone like you in his life."

She cocked an eyebrow, surprised at his seriousness which was becoming a recurring theme among the teens of the Narrows. "What do you mean by that?"

Ted sighed, telling her, "Bruce is stronger than anyone I've ever met. And he's strong on his own, sure, but he's stronger with people around him. He's like a–"

"Sheepdog," Selina finished for him. Ted nodded. "And he gets this look in his eye–"

"Like an animal," Ted finished.

She nodded. "You've seen it?"

Ted hummed a yes. "Once, I fought a guy who had weights in his gloves. One of his gloves came off, and the weight fell out, right in front of Bruce. Next thing I knew, there was a brawl in the arena, and Bruce was beating the guy half to hell. It's almost scary how angry he gets, sometimes."

Selina knit her brow and shook her head. "Not really," she told him. "Once, we got caught by a guy we were stealing money from. Long story short: he hit me. Bruce almost killed him, but…" she shook her head, again. "I called his name, and he looked up, and I knew he wasn't gonna do it. He wouldn't."

Ted nodded slowly. "Well, that's just another reason why you're good for him. You can bring him back."

* * *

After a few dozen feet, Bruce roughly shook his arm free of Jack's grasp, following him through the warehouse of his own free will. They passed the three gangs that'd been eyeing Bruce earlier, although they were suddenly less interested than before with Jack Napier standing next to him.

Jack led him up a staircase to the catwalks above the dance floor.

"What do you want, Jack?" Bruce demanded, stopping abruptly and refusing to go another step forward. "What's so important?"

Jack chuckled and came to a halt. "It's not what _I_ want. It's actually something that _you'll_ want."

"Cut the crap, Napier," Bruce told him.

Jack sighed and reached into his jacket, removing a piece of paper and handing it to Bruce. "A friend of mine took that," he told Bruce. "Thought you'd want to know."

Bruce turned over the photograph, and his stomach sunk.

"Where was this taken?" Bruce asked, keeping his eyes glued to the picture.

"Central Station," Jack answered simply, leaning out over the edge of the catwalk. "Pretty interesting, right?"

"How many people know?"

"Just me and you," Jack replied coolly, spitting off the edge.

Bruce was about to ask about the photographer, then remembered who he was talking to. He probably didn't want to know, anyways.

He folded the photograph and slid it into his jacket pocket.

He sighed. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack shrugged, a mischievous grin sliding across his face. "What're friends for?"

Bruce grit his teeth, trying not to gag. Here he was again getting into business with Jack Napier. Had he learned nothing?

"Keep this quiet, for now. No one else finds out." Bruce ordered.

And with that, he turned on his heel and practically ran off the catwalk.

* * *

He found Selina and Ted. Helena had rejoined them and they were all standing around off to the side, talking.

They saw him coming and turned to greet him, Ted asking, "What did that son of a bitch want?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Nothing worth my time. Sorry to keep you waiting. I take it there weren't any problems?"

Ted shook his head. "Nothing we couldn't handle. But, if you don't mind, we're gonna go dance, now," Ted told him, taking Helena's hand.

Bruce chuckled. "Have fun."

Ted and Helena walked off towards the crowd of people.

Bruce turned to Selina and was about to ask what she wanted to do when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

Why did people have to keep approaching him?

Before, he could turn and greet whoever was behind him, he noticed that Selina had gone pale. Then, he felt something round jut into his lower back. It was familiar, too familiar for his liking. He froze.

"Bruce Kyle," a deep voice rumbled. "Good to see you, again."

"Who's Bruce Kyle?" Bruce asked, remaining still, trying to figure out who exactly was threatening him. "Name's Ted Grant. Ya know, the boxing champ?"

The guy behind him bellowed in laughter. "I've fought Ted Grant, and you sure as hell ain't him. Now, you're gonna walk outside silently, or we'll rip your little girlfriend in half."

Yep. He knew who he was being threatened by, and it wasn't a good thing.

"Relax, big guy," Bruce told him. "We're cool. Come on, Cat. Let's go."

The Mammoth Gang, the biggest, meanest, stupidest gang in all of Gotham, the leader of whom, named Buford, had been the only person ever to go ten rounds with Ted, losing by judge decision. Of the gang, he was definitely the smartest, his IQ maybe even surpassing single digits. Bruce wouldn't win a fight with him, not by a long shot. He'd just have to outsmart him, which wouldn't be too difficult.

As they were leaving, Bruce desperately stared at Ted across the room, hoping to get his attention.

He had no such luck.

* * *

Buford led the pair of them into the alleyway behind the warehouse.

One of Buford's guards (which Bruce thought was unnecessary to have) tossed Selina off to the side.

Before Bruce could say a word in protest, Buford swung his sledgehammer of a fist into his stomach, knocking all the wind straight out of him.

"GIVE IT BACK!" he yelled, sounding like a pouty child, just with four hundred more pounds to back up his threat.

"Give what back?" Bruce wheezed.

"My violin!" he wined. "You took it! I know you did!" Buford picked him up clean off of the ground and held him in the air like a ragdoll. He then threw him to the pavement, yelling, "GIVE!" He picked him up again and threw him down. "IT!" He picked Bruce up a third time, but Bruce was ready for it.

He raked at Buford's eyes, causing the man to stumble backwards and drop Bruce momentarily.

He growled in frustration.

Bruce yelled at him, "I didn't steal shit from you! Why would I do that? You work for Gilzean! I work for Gilzean! And why would I want your violin anyways?"

"My Gram-Gram gave it to me!" he bellowed, charging at Bruce. He was surprisingly quick for a big guy, getting his arms around Bruce's waist and throwing him against the wall of the alley.

Bruce dove out of the way as Buford threw a punch, smashing the bricks where Bruce's head had been a moment earlier.

Bruce rolled to a stop, looking up at the empty fire escapes.

He could get out of here easily enough, but he'd have to get Selina…

He glanced across the alleyway where Selina was slumped over against the wall. There was a gash next to her left eye, and a sliver of blood traced down to her jawline.

Everything went red.

He didn't want to escape anymore.

Instead, he launched himself at Buford, taking the much larger man by surprise. He kicked him hard in the nose, then swept his feet out from under him, causing the alleyway to shake as the behemoth of a man collapsed to the floor.

Bruce turned his sights on Buford's four guards. None of them were bigger than Buford, but if they all came at him at once…

He didn't have to worry about that, though.

Instead, the dumbest of the group charged at him first, receiving a knee to the nose for his troubles. Then, the second dumbest charged, and Bruce kicked his knee out of place.

The final two were either equally dumb or smarter than the rest, as they charged at Bruce together.

Instead of backing up or hesitating, Bruce sprinted towards them, aiming for the space in between the two men. They both swung, and Bruce ducked as they clobbered each other, collapsing to the ground simultaneously.

He ran to Selina's side, telling her, "Don't move. What happened?"

"I'm fine," Selina groaned, but she was obviously not fine. "I just hit my head on the damn dumpst–"

She suddenly retched and held her hand over her mouth. In one swift motion, Bruce lifted her from the ground and held her head over the dumpster, and just in time, too, as she hurled into it.

He patted her back gently, telling her that it was alright and that she'd be fine, to try and get it all out, that she'd feel better in a minute.

When she finally stopped vomiting, he helped her sit down on a crate, telling her to take deep breaths, no matter how disgusting it might feel.

She shook her head, murmuring, "Sorry."

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for," Bruce told her, taking her hand. "It's my fault that any of this even happened in the first place." She didn't respond, so Bruce spelled out for her, "This is the part where you say that it isn't my fault."

She cocked an eyebrow. "But it was completely your fault," she stated.

He smirked. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry for getting you into this, Cat."

"You kidding?" she asked, suddenly looking very tired. "Tonight was great. Just, give me a minute and we can go back inside…"

"Nuh-uh. I don't think so," Bruce told her. "You're done for the night. We're going home."

"No, I'm fine, I swear–" Selina whispered before passing out.

Bruce caught her, resting her head on his shoulder and picking her up bridal style.

He called a cab and gently put her inside, telling the cabbie that she'd had a bit too much to drink and had fallen. He shrugged, muttering, "Kids these days," and he left Bruce alone for the rest of the trip.

* * *

When she woke up the next day, she had a splitting headache and there was a nagging pain next to her left eye. She was lying on the couch in the Factory, Bruce holding a cold icepack to her head.

"Good morning, B," she muttered, alerting him to her consciousness.

He chuckled. "It's four in the afternoon."

She cringed. "What happened?"

"Dr. Thompkins came by, checked your head. You were in and out the whole time."

Selina shook her head, which hurt like hell. "I don't remember any of it."

He shrugged. "Yeah, you weren't talking much sense. Doc just told me to keep an eye on you. Oh, and you owe me thirty bucks, by the way."

She knit her brow. "How so?"

"You threw up on my hoodie," Bruce answered, nodding to the garbage bin.

"I thought we established that all of that was your fault."

"So you do remember something." She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Well, get some rest, Cat. I'll make dinner whenever you wake up."

"Thanks, B," she told him as he stood from the couch. "Wait!" she called before he walked off. He stalled and she asked, "Did you really steal that guy's violin?"

A mischievous smirk slid across his lips. "Goodnight, Selina."

She smiled as he walked off, his bedroom door shutting behind him.

She tentatively reached up to her face, lightly touching the scratch next to her eye.

That'd leave a scar…

 **A/N: This was the second to last chapter of this arc which is kinda sad because we all know how this arc ends, but I'm also super excited to finish off the season. I'd meant to post this chapter earlier this week, but I randomly decided that I wanted to completely rewrite the remainder of the Season 2 plotline,** _ **again**_ **. I've done this three times now, but I think I finally have a good ending set up and I'm really excited to share it with you!**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and, if you did, make sure to Review and let me know! Your feedback is what I write for, after all. And let me know what you think is on the photograph that Jack gave to Bruce, keeping in mind that this chapter would've taken place around 2x16. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	27. All Good Things

**A/N: This is the final chapter of the Narrows Arc. I'm sad to see it go, but, like I said in my last post, I can't wait to show you what I have in store for the end of Season 2! I'd also like to take the opportunity to thank you all again for your continued support on this series. It really means the world to me that people are reading what I'm writing, and it gives me hope that I could turn writing into a career someday. So thank you. Your support means more to me than you could ever know.**

 **With all that said: here's Chapter 27. Hope you enjoy!**

 **All Good Things**

Selina sprinted across the rooftop, lugging a bag of money along with her, with Bruce hot on her heels.

Over the past two weeks, he'd let her take larger and larger roles in his jobs. On this job in particular, he'd let her go into the back room by herself and distract the gang's boss (who was now chasing them), while Bruce used the high ceilings and sharp corners of the main room to his advantage, silently taking out the guards one by one.

When he was done, he walked into the back room and they robbed the boss point-blank. Bruce let the guy off with a warning to not follow them (which he'd later come to regret), and, after filling an entire duffel bag with rolls of money, they left.

They ran through the building, navigating towards the open window Bruce had used to slip inside.

The coast was clear. They'd gotten away with it…

They turned a corner, and Bruce came to a screeching halt.

Apparently he'd missed a guard.

Blocking the tight hallway was a mountain of a man, his shoulders almost as wide as the room itself.

Bruce handed the duffel bag to Selina and told her, "I'll go under. You go over."

She was about to ask what that meant when Bruce charged. She instinctually followed closely behind, not entirely sure what he was planning but trusting him anyways.

They got closer and closer and closer until she could almost see the behemoth's nose hairs.

For a split second, Selina thought Bruce was going to try and run through the man. Then, he dropped into a baseball slide, passed between the man's legs, and came up on his feet on the other side. The man, slower moving than Bruce, bent over to try and grab him, but missed by inches.

Selina quickly figured out what "You go over" meant. She threw the bag of money over the man to the other side, Bruce catching it in stride as he started to run.

Selina sprinted at the man, still bent over, and jumped, using the back of the man's head as a trampoline and flying across him to the other side. She landed gracefully in a somersault, coming up on her feet and sprinting after Bruce in a single fluid motion, leaving the dazed monster of a man behind.

She rounded the corner and found Bruce stalled again, standing across from another man. He was a bit smaller than the last one but held a spiked baseball bat to make up for it.

"You had _one_ job!" Selina complained.

"Shut up!" He handed her the bag as he charged the man, dodging a swing of the bat, getting into the man's guard, and judo flipping him onto his back. He broke the guy's wrist for good measure and then started towards the exit, motioning for Selina to go through first.

"YOU GET BACK HERE WITH MY MONEY!" the boss roared as he rounded the corner.

Selina made it through the window, starting up the fire escape to the rooftop.

Bruce straddled the windowsill, casually leaning up against it. He subtly removed the piece of wood propping the window open, letting the weight rest on his shoulder.

The guy was practically fuming with rage, yelling as he charged, "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU–"

As he reached out, Bruce swung his other leg out onto the fire escape, letting the window slam shut, crushing the man's fingers in between.

Bruce smirked. "Poor choice of words."

The man howled in pain as Bruce sprinted up the steps. The window trap wouldn't hold him for long, and they needed as much distance advantage as possible.

Bruce pulled himself onto the rooftop and started across it, Selina a few steps ahead. There was only one place where they could jump from their roof to another, and it was on the opposite side of the building.

A rooftop exit door slammed open in front of them, and the boss stepped out, hands and face both throbbing red (but for very different reasons). Selina managed to get past him before he could reach out, but Bruce wasn't as lucky.

He slowed down, squaring up with the man.

He juked to the right, and then sprinted left, dodging the man's outstretched arms by millimeters.

He ran as hard as he could, his pursuer screaming curses on him and his family as Bruce widened the gap, again.

"YOU LITTLE CUNTS! DON'T YOU TAKE THAT BAG! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU'RE STEALING FROM?"

A stupid grin stretched across Bruce's face.

This was the life: ripping off mobsters, running across rooftops as you fled for your life.

Could it get any better than this?

He was about five steps behind Selina when, suddenly, the left side of her body jerked backwards, and she dropped the bag. She'd run into a pipe jutting out of the ground.

She stalled, but Bruce knew there was no time. "Leave it!" he shouted, motioning for her to keep running.

She followed orders and left the bag behind, leaping across the gap between the buildings to safety.

Bruce, on the other hand, was not gonna let this job go to waste. They were too close. He scooped up the bag as he ran, knowing his pursuer was only regaining ground by the second.

He was so close…five feet…three…one more step…

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt breeze from the man's hand rip across the scruff of his neck, missing by the thinnest of margins.

Meanwhile, he leapt across the gap between the two buildings, a giant smile on his face.

If you asked him, the only thing more fun than committing a crime was getting away with it and that was exactly what he'd just done.

He landed gracefully on the other side, doing a somersault and coming up on his feet.

He turned back to face his pursuer who'd stopped at the edge of his own rooftop.

"THAT'S MY MONEY!" he yelled.

"Boo-hoo! You stole it," Selina taunted. "Now you got stole, chump." Bruce shook his head. Whatever the Narrows had done to her, he liked it.

The man chuckled mirthlessly, growling, "I catch you, you're dead! Both of you!"

Bruce smirked, reaching into the bag and removing several fistfuls of money. "By the way, you're a terrible crook, letting two kids rob you. You really don't deserve this money."

He threw the cash down into the streets.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU LITTLE FREAK?!" he roared.

"What the hell are you doing?" Selina agreed, ripping the bag of money away from him before he could throw anymore out.

"YOU'RE BOTH DEAD! NOBODY'S EVER GONNA TOUCH MY MONEY!" he roared into the streets, turning back and running off to stop the people from taking the free cash.

"What were you thinking?!" Selina yelled at him.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about the money? You're a billionaire, remember?"

Selina growled in frustration. "That doesn't mean it's okay to throw money away! That was your half you threw out!" she told him, throwing in a shove for good measure and storming off.

Bruce shrugged, a lazy smirk sliding across his face as he held up the few bills he had left. "I saved enough for burgers."

* * *

And so they got burgers at their favorite diner, Bruce's treat.

They'd been doing this more and more often as of late, just the two of them getting a meal or seeing a movie. Two nights prior, they'd even snuck into the rafters of a Gotham Rogues baseball game.

Were they dates?

Maybe.

He wasn't entirely sure, and he was fine with that.

He was a fulltime criminal, after all, and, outside of the Narrows, she was a billionaire.

Besides, he'd tried dating someone before, and that hadn't ended particularly well. So, no, they weren't dates, at least not in the romantic sense.

They were just two street-kids hanging out, happy right where they were. They weren't mad at each other (besides the occasional squabble), and there was no massive, life-threatening plot looming over their heads.

Things were just…good.

And he knew from experience that that was a dangerous thing.

He'd learned a long time ago that getting your hopes up only led to pain. But maybe, just maybe, if he hoped for one thing, just one, it might turn out alright.

Then again, there was that picture burning a hole in his jacket pocket. Could he really expect to live peacefully while–

"Hello? Earth to Bruce?" Selina asked, waving a fry under his nose.

He shook his head, snapping back to the present. "Yeah?"

"The check's here," she told him pushing the receipt towards him. "It's your treat, remember?"

Bruce nodded, paying the fee and handing it to the waitress, telling her to keep the change.

"Where'd you go?" Selina asked, half-heartedly munching on a fry.

Bruce shook his head. "Got lost in my head."

"That's a dangerous place to be," she teased.

He stole a fry from her tray. "Whatever. What do you wanna do today?"

She shrugged, her eyes going distant as she stared out the window. Snow had begun to fall and the streets were practically empty, making the city look almost peaceful. "I don't know. We could go to the Flea?"

"We did that yesterday. We could go climbing uptown?"

She shook her head. "My hands are still sore from the Rogue's stadium."

Bruce shrugged and leaned back in the booth. "We could just go home, find something to do later?"

Selina nodded. "That's fine, I guess. But let's _walk_ back. It's so pretty outside."

And so they walked back to the factory at a snail's pace, flurries descending to the streets. Selina laced her arm through his as they went.

Bruce glanced down at her. Her curly hair was speckled white with snow and her cheeks naturally blushed from the cold. Her arm was shivering slightly. He didn't think it was that cold, and she was wearing a heavy jacket…

He noticed the left sleeve of her jacket had a large tear in it, letting the cold in. That was sad, she loved that jacket. Hell, she'd practically worn it every day since she'd gotten it.

He quickened their pace slightly, and they arrived back in the Factory within a few minutes. He made a beeline for the heater, turning it up as high as it would go. Not a minute later, Selina tossed her jacket onto the couch.

He scooped it up with the rest of their laundry, tossing the jacket into his room before putting the rest of the clothes into the tiny washer/dryer he'd found on the side of the road one day.

He went off to his room, telling Selina that he was gonna work out for a while. She hummed in acknowledgement from the couch and he closed the door.

He went to work, pulling out a needle and thread from his closet and sewing the sleeve up in a matter of minutes.

And yes, he knew how to sew.

He also knew how to kill someone with a sewing needle should the need arise.

He held the jacket out, admiring his handiwork. The stitch wasn't exactly subtle, but it would function nonetheless.

"Hey, Cat!" he called, stepping out of his room with the jacket held behind him. "I have a surp–"

The front door slammed open.

Selina was sitting on the couch, bolt upright in surprise.

She glanced back at Bruce. "Who?"

He shook his head, setting the jacket down on the kitchen table and picking up a baseball bat, approaching the main entrance slowly.

Selina flicked open her knife and hid up against the wall.

"Ted?" Bruce asked hesitantly. "That you?"

It wasn't Ted.

Of all the people in Gotham to walk through his front door, bruised and bleeding, Jim Gordon was the last one he would've expected.

"What the–" Bruce muttered.

"Detective Gordon?" Selina asked, dropping her knife and rushing to help him down the steps. He looked like hell.

"Selina?" Gordon asked, seeming tired and very confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same about you," Bruce stated coldly.

No matter how broken and battered he was, Bruce couldn't feel bad for Gordon. Not after what he'd done to Garfield, how he'd lied. And then he had the balls to show up to his place looking for help?

"I found the man who framed me," Gordon told them, panting heavily. "I need a phone–"

He keeled over, collapsing onto the couch and passing out without another word.

Bruce huffed. "Great, a dead cop in my crib now."

* * *

"He's still sleeping," Selina told Alfred as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Best thing for him," he agreed, setting out breakfast on the kitchen table.

She sighed. "Thank you for coming when I called, Alfred."

"Of course I came. No question," Alfred told her. He gave her a long, weary glance. "You're looking thin."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm getting plenty to eat."

"That I very much doubt, Miss Wayne," Alfred remarked. "But there are things that we must discuss."

"I'm not coming back," she stated. "Not yet."

"I understand that, but we need to talk–"

"Good morning," Jim groaned, slowly walking into the kitchen.

"Detective Gordon, should you be up?" Selina asked.

"I'm fine," Gordon told her. He turned to Alfred, asking, "You stitched me up?"

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. "Actually, it was Mr. Kyle," he answered, mumbling the last two words.

"I called Alfred from Bruce's place when you passed out," Selina told him.

"So I'd thought I'd bring you here. Safest place for you," Alfred finished. "Miss Wayne, I'm wondering if you might go and get the detective his clothes from the laundry room, please."

Selina nodded, telling Gordon as she left, "I'm glad you're okay."

She lingered in the hallway, her keen ears perking up at her name.

"How long has Selina been living with Bruce Kyle?" Gordon asked.

"Ever since the Matches Malone debacle," Alfred muttered. "Turns out staring into the cold, dead eyes of the man that killed your parents doesn't bring the right amount of closure."

"Selina never should've been in that room. I should've gotten to Malone first."

"Yes. You should've done," Alfred agreed. "But you didn't, did you? You can't un-fry an egg. As my dear old mum used to say. So, why don't we leave Miss Wayne's…situation alone, and why don't we discuss yours, eh?"

Selina walked off to get Gordon's clothes.

Had it really only been two months since she'd found Malone? It'd felt like a short eternity. And yet at the same time, she felt as though she had so much more to learn from Bruce, so much she hadn't gotten to do on the streets. Just to think that yesterday morning she and Bruce had been having a hard time figuring out what to do.

And now she had no end of ideas of things to do.

She jogged up the stairs, passing her own bedroom. She hadn't been able to sleep at all that night. Her bed had absorbed her like quicksand, too soft from what she was now used to. She'd eventually settled for sleeping in her father's study on one of the harder couches. Even then she'd had difficulty finding rest.

It all felt so different, so foreign. Her life in the Manor seemed like a lifetime ago.

She kept on going, passing Bruce's bedroom on her way.

The door was propped open, just by a few inches.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Was it wrong to peek inside, just to check on him?

If she hadn't been able to sleep in the Manor, then he sure as hell wouldn't have been able to either, right?

She was just looking out for him.

She crept towards the door, peering into the room.

He was standing at the foot of his bed, facing the open windows with his back turned to her.

She'd seen him without a shirt a few times, most of which had happened during her stay in the Narrows when she woke up early enough to catch him walking from his bedroom to the bathroom.

The kid was good looking with his lean, muscular frame, but the sight was startling.

His chest, back, and arms were speckled with scars, ranging from cuts to a pair of gunshot wounds to a large burn on his left shoulder (which she'd never had the heart to ask him about). She sometimes forgot how much he'd been through in his decade of living in the Narrows. She didn't see him for the damaged person that he was, primarily because he didn't act like it; he didn't let people see his scars.

But who was she to judge?

She scampered off down the hall, pulling Detective Gordon's clothes from the drier in a heap.

As she walked back, she glanced into Bruce's room, the door more ajar than before. It was empty, meaning he was probably heading down to breakfast…alone…with Gordon and Alfred…

She quickened her pace drastically, almost running down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Bruce was off in the corner, pouring himself a cup of coffee while Gordon sat at the table and Alfred stood rigid, staring Bruce down.

Other than the sound of Bruce pouring his drink, it was dead silent in the room.

Selina cleared her throat, handing Gordon his clothes. He set them off to the side, thanking her and returning to his drink. She sat down across from him.

Bruce turned around, completely avoiding all eye contact with Gordon as he slumped into the chair next to her.

Selina cleared her throat again and hesitantly started, "So…what's up, Gordon?"

She cringed immediately, knowing that there were probably better ways to ask that question.

Gordon shook his head with a small smirk. "Like I said, I found the man who framed me. His name is Ed Nygma."

"The scrawny, odd-looking fellow from the GCPD?" Alfred asked.

Gordon nodded curtly. "Yes, him. He killed Pinkney. I confronted him–"

"Didn't turn out so well for you, huh?" Bruce muttered.

Gordon cringed slightly, continuing, "Nygma was right about one thing. I can't just go to the cops. They'll never believe me. I need hard proof."

"Cops, right?" Bruce muttered, a bit louder this time. "Jerks."

Gordon ignored him, saying, "Nygma said he met Penguin for the first time in the woods. That's right around the same time his girlfriend went missing. I think he was burying her. Just like he was going to bury me."

"What? You wanna find her body?" Alfred asked. "Touch of the old 'needle in the haystack,' isn't it?"

Gordon nodded. "Nygma knows where she is."

"What? You think he's gonna, what? Straight tell you?"

"That's exactly what he's gonna do," Gordon stated. "But I need help."

"Whatever we can do," Selina told him.

"Thanks. But I need someone Barnes knows will betray me," Gordon sighed.

The room went silent, again, except for the sound of Bruce slurping on his drink.

He slowly looked up from the cup, realizing that all eyes were on him.

"What? Me?" he asked indignantly.

Gordon shrugged. "You already don't like me."

"And you're not exactly the most savory of chaps, are ya?" Alfred interjected.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Alfred, turning to Gordon and asking, "How do you know I won't just sell you out?"

"Because you helped me," Gordon replied, gesturing to his stitched up leg. "And you wouldn't have done that if–"

"I helped you because _she_ asked me to," Bruce told him, pointing at Selina.

"Bruce," Selina started, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please."

He looked at Selina, then at Gordon, and then at Alfred.

"Fine," he muttered. "But now you owe me double, Gordon."

* * *

"Who do I talk to about the reward for Jim Gordon?!" Bruce announced, causing the bustling precinct to go completely silent in a matter of moments.

"Hey! Psst. Come here," Bullock told him, trying to quiet Bruce down. "Come here."

He took Bruce by the arm, so Bruce yelled, "Let go of me! I'm here for my reward!"

"I'll give you a reward," Bullock threatened, trying to look intimidating.

"Bullock!" another voice called. A short, stout, bald man approached them, presumably Captain Barnes. He'd heard all about him, all the trouble he was causing in the Criminal Underworld. It was honestly impressive. "Have you seen Jim Gordon?" he demanded.

"Depends. There really a ten grand?" Bruce countered.

"Depends on your information."

"He was at my place a couple of hours ago," Bruce told him. "He'd been shot."

"Shot?" Bullock asked worriedly. "Who shot him?"

"Didn't say," Bruce answered. "He wasn't making a lot of sense."

"Is he still there now?"

"No, he took off. I don't know where, but he was just looking for a place to lie low for a while, I guess."

"That's not worth $10,000," Barnes chided.

Bruce let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Before he left he said he'd found out where the Penguin was hiding and he was gonna go see him."

"Why would he go see the Penguin?"

"I don't know. Something about, 'Penguin knows where the body is buried'."

"What bodies?"

"I don't know!" Bruce complained.

"Where's the Penguin now?"

"No one knows," Bullock answered.

Bruce raised his brow expectantly. "You gonna pay me or what?"

Barnes got a hard look in his eyes, like he was asking for a fight. "Or what?"

Bruce huffed. "Whatever. Forget this crap."

He stormed out of the GCPD, a smirk dancing on his lips. He'd been watching Nygma from the corner of his eye the whole time, and he'd never seen someone look so scared and guilty before in his life.

* * *

He caught a cab back to the Manor, swinging by the Factory, first.

By the time he arrived, it was already dark. He scaled the wall of the Manor, creeping into the study.

Selina was nowhere to be found.

He walked down the hall, finding the bathroom door closed. Even from several feet away, he felt the steam emanating from under the door as the water ran inside.

He went back to the study to wait.

That was his first mistake, sitting alone in a familiar room. It let his mind wander, and he didn't like where it went.

The picture in his pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

He stared intently at the door, wanting nothing more than to get Selina and get out of that house as fast as possible.

What had he been thinking, bringing her back here? In the Narrows, he knew he could protect her, but out here in the middle of nowhere?

He had half a mind to go wait outside the bathroom door, but thought better of it.

He tried to take a deep breath, to slow his nerves, but he couldn't. His heart was racing, and the air in the room felt humid and stuffy, making it difficult to breathe.

 _Calm down, Bruce_ , he told himself. _Don't get yourself worked up. She's safer here anyways_ …

His stomach clenched at the thought.

He was gonna puke…

"Mr. Kyle?!" Alfred asked, stepping out in front of him. From the tone of his voice, it probably wasn't the first time he'd called Bruce's name.

"Selina's taking a shower," he blurted out, saying the first thing that popped into his head. "She'll be out in a minute."

Alfred nodded. "Yes, thank you. But it's actually you that I'd like to speak with."

He took the couch across from Bruce, leaning back calmly and comfortably. In contrast, Bruce was on the edge of his seat, feeling like he would be sick any moment.

He wanted out.

Now.

Alfred seemed to be in no such rush. "How are you?"

Bruce shrugged. "Fine." He paused. "Is there something you wanted?"

Alfred nodded calmly. "There is, now that you mention it. I couldn't help but to notice a small scar next to Miss Wayne's left eye that I'd never noticed until this morning. Tell me, Bruce, has it always been there?"

Bruce clenched his jaw, his stomach churning. "No," he answered just above a whisper.

"No?" Alfred asked. "Well, then, Mr. Kyle, would you like to tell me how Miss Wayne received said scar?"

Bruce swallowed hard. "We were out one night, and a group of men confronted us," Bruce slowly told him, picking each word as carefully as he could. "She hit her head on a dumpster."

Alfred nodded. "And, for curiosity's sake, is that all the damage that Miss Wayne has sustained during her…visit?"

Bruce slowly shook his head. "No. It isn't."

Alfred sighed, leaning back. The more uncomfortable Bruce became, the more he seemed to relax. "Do you have Miss Wayne's best interest at heart?" Alfred asked.

A knife sunk into Bruce's chest, slow and twisting and ice-cold.

He clenched his jaw, searching for a response but his mind becoming blank.

Alfred nodded. "Mr. Kyle, you've clearly taken an interest in her, and I'm certain that you do care about her. But is letting her stay in the Narrows the best thing for her? The safest thing for her?"

Bruce wanted to scream at him to shut up, but he couldn't find the words. Alfred could see right through him. Every anxiety, every fear that he'd been dealing with for two weeks, finally spoken, made real.

He started grasping at straws, knowing the debate was already lost but trying to salvage whatever he could. "She's tougher than she looks," he stated, trying to put a confident expression on his face. It fell flat almost immediately.

Alfred shook his head, his voice growing in intensity as he spoke. "Yes, she is, but we both already knew that, didn't we? That girl has been through so much, and she is still standing tall, so is it fair to continue putting her in these positions? Is it fair to continue reminding her of all that she's lost, not allowing her to move on from it? Or are you just being selfish?"

"You're right," Bruce stated, the churning feeling in his stomach suddenly disappearing.

Alfred's brow shot up in surprise. Apparently he wasn't expecting it to be that easy.

"You're right," Bruce repeated quietly. "I'm not being fair to her. I'm sorry."

Alfred shook his head, stunned into silence.

Just then, Selina walked in.

Alfred stood up, looked between the both of them a couple of times, and then bustled off without a word.

She gave Alfred a weird look as he walked away. "What's with him?" she asked.

Then she saw the expression on Bruce's face, and her concern only grew. He looked, daresay it, scared. For the first time possibly ever, Bruce Kyle was scared…and that scared her to no end.

"Bruce, what is going on?"

He gave her a hard look. She could see the turmoil in his eyes. Something was seriously wrong.

She stepped up to him, placing a tentative hand on his arm. "Talk to me," she told him, trying to seem as comforting and understanding as possible, even though she had no idea what was up with him.

His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm going back to Gotham," he stated.

She cocked her head to the side and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Just give me a minute to grab my stu–"

"I need you to stay here."

…

…

…

Selina simply stared at him, not sure if she'd heard him right. Her hand fell back down to her side.

"What?" She shook her head. "W-why? What happened?" she asked, unable to fully wrap her head around what he was saying.

He turned towards the fireplace. "I need to find someone," he told her, his voice shaking slightly. "And to do that I need to disappear. But I–"

"Can't do that with me around," Selina finished.

And her heart broke when he didn't deny it.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Cat. I swear I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important, but…but I have to make the tough call here."

She stared at him, her piercing blue-green eyes seeming to see straight through him. "It's not so tough," she scoffed, a hurt-driven bitterness creeping into her voice. "You've done this twice, now. It can't be that hard."

He shook his head. "I'm so, so sorry Selina. But this is the best thing I can do for you, right now."

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Don't waste your breath. Go on, Bruce. Get outta here."

He grit his teeth. He had to do this. He had to. It was the best way he could protect her. He'd gotten her hurt, and this was the cost of it.

He turned around and started towards the balcony window.

Every step he took, he felt his resolve start to slip.

Would she really be safe here? Sure, Alfred was a good enough protector, but could Alfred do a better job than himself? Assassins had been able to get onto the grounds and neutralize him. Who'd saved her then? He had. And what about Galavan? He'd walked right in and kidnapped her only a few months prior. How could this place be called safe?

But were the Narrows any better?

He was so close to getting out, only a few steps away.

He felt like he was being chased all over, again, but he wasn't smiling this time.

Five more feet…three…one…

His hand was on the door handle when she called, "What's so important that it has to end…this?"

He froze. The picture was now a bonfire in his breast pocket.

He took a deep breath.

He owed her an explanation.

She deserved it.

"Sterling St. Cloud is back in Gotham."

Only the crackle of the fire answered him.

"And I need to find him before he finds you," Bruce told her. He turned back to her. "Selina, please stay safe."

* * *

He pulled a tarp over the last pieces of furniture in the Factory, fastening it to the door handle. He'd cleared out the space in less than an hour, leaving no trace of anyone ever being there, let alone a pair of people living there for two months.

Dammit.

It'd been a great two months.

Hell, it'd easily been the best two months of his life.

But it was over now.

He suddenly longed to be back in Sonny's hideout, getting the shit kicked out of him.

At least she'd been there with him.

But now, he was alone again. It was probably for the best, he was about to hunt down a trained assassin, after all.

He pulled the photograph out of his pocket and unfolded it, looking at it for the first time since Jack had given it to him.

Sterling, or as he'd found out Jean-Paul Valley, had bulked up since Bruce had last seen him. In the picture, Jean was stepping off a train, a large duffel bag over his shoulder. After last time, Bruce had no idea where he, Jean, and Selina stood, but if he was back in Gotham, it didn't seem promising.

He hadn't been spotted since the first photograph, but he was somewhere in the city, hiding, plotting.

He had to find him, and fast. It would be difficult, probably dangerous, too, but this was his city. If Jean was hiding in the shadows, Bruce would do the same.

And he couldn't do that if he was worrying about someone else.

This was the best thing he could do for her, even if it hurt.

But that's what being a partner meant to him: doing what's right for each other, not necessarily what's easy.

And if he had to make the tough call, he'd do it because he could. Because he was fighting for something bigger than himself.

He was fighting for Selina Wayne.

And he'd hate to be Jean-Paul Valley right about now.

* * *

After standing in a stupor for a solid ten minutes, Selina wandered down the hallway to her bedroom.

She didn't need these street clothes anymore…

She flipped on her lights and noticed something that hadn't been there earlier.

Her favorite leather jacket, the one that she'd ripped the morning prior, was sitting neatly folded on the foot of her bed. There was a note on top of it.

She took the piece of paper which read:

' _Fixed the sleeve. Hope you like the red._

 _-B'_

She set the note aside and unfolded the jacket.

Sure enough, the hole had been stitched up with red string, giving it an even more punk-rock aesthetic than before.

She slipped the jacket on and stepped in front of the mirror.

Oh yeah, she liked the red.

She reached into her coat's inner pocket and found that her switchblade was still there.

She flicked it open and looked at herself in the mirror.

The girl she saw staring back was a total stranger, yet oddly familiar.

When she tried to think back on what she'd looked like two months prior, she drew a blank.

This girl staring back at her was Cat, the girl who ripped off mobsters and jumped over eight story drops without blinking an eye, the one who broke into baseball games and climbed the Midtown Bridge, the one who Bruce Kyle himself had grown to trust and respect.

That was the girl she wanted to be, the girl that she was on the inside, wild and free.

But on the outside, she was orphan, billionaire Selina Wayne.

She put the knife in her nightstand, hiding it as far back in the drawer as she could in hopes of Alfred not finding it.

Completely forgetting about her original mission to change clothes, she walked back to the study and clicked the remote.

The fireplace slowly moved out of the way and she walked down to the bunker below the Manor.

She booted up her father's computer, entering S-E-L-I-N-A as the password.

She arrived at the home screen, a blacked-out screensaver with files decorating it. She'd stared at this screen for so long, searching for clues. She could practically recite all the files' names by heart: I.H.R.P., W.E.P.I, JANUS, T.C.O.O., and so on. Each of the files was password protected and gave a maximum of three attempts before the file was deleted.

She'd sat there for hours on end before and found nothing.

But this time, something stuck out to her.

Maybe it was her two months away from the screen, or maybe something she'd learned in the Narrows had made her more observant. Either way, there was something different about one of the files.

JANUS.

She'd never noticed before, but there were no dots in between the letters, and it sounded more like a word than an acronym.

Janus…what was Janus?

She rolled over to a nearby bookshelf filled with encyclopedias (apparently her father believed in doing things the hard way). She grabbed the letter J and started flipping through it, eventually coming across the word 'Janus'.

Apparently, it was a 'who', not a 'what'.

Janus was the Greek god of doors, choices, and duality, typically shown as having one body with two faces.

Why would her father name a project after a Greek god?

It may've been a thin lead, but it was the first real step in her investigation since she'd found Malone two months ago, and she was gonna follow it, wherever it took her.

 **A/N: Shit's about to get real. Enough said.**

 **For those wondering, there was no Night-of-Episode-Oneshot this week because I had to do a chorus thing that went until eleven that night and I had a huge test to take the next morning (which I definitely bombed) and I** _ **still**_ **haven't seen the episode yet as I'm writing this, so I probably won't be posting another oneshot until next Thursday.**

 **Also, I feel like I need to apologize for my treatment of Alfred in this series. I** _ **love**_ **Alfred on the show. He's easily one of my favorite characters (besides Bruce and Selina) and I feel like I keep antagonizing him. However, for a situation like this, it feels only natural that Alfred would be more protective of Selina from Bruce than he was of Bruce from Selina like in canon. I had to make him an antagonistic force in this series (at least for now) to move along the plot. I just wanted you guys to understand that I love Alfred to death and I'm not trying to turn him into an asshole, but it needed to be done.**

 **And this is totally unrelated to anything else, but at the beginning of the episode the thug chasing after Bruce and Selina clearly calls them little c****, but Netflix subtitles it as "You little thugs!" Not important, I just thought it was funny because Gotham would** _ **never**_ **get away with using that word nowadays.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and if you have any comments/questions/critiques, make sure to Review! And if you haven't done it already, make sure to Follow/Favorite so you don't miss out on my next update. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **(And I hope you liked the Jean-Paul Valley/Sterling St. Cloud reveal, since that's gonna be a HUGE part of the final arc of Season 2)**


	28. Claws and Crosses

**A/N: So, it recently hit me that I have four more chapters to go in Season 2, and we have five weeks until Season 5 concludes. As sad an occasion as it will be, I'm gonna try and shine a little light on that day by starting Season 3 the night of the final episode. I love the show and I hate to see it go, but I'm not even close to finished yet!**

 **With all that said, five chapters in five weeks is gonna be rough, especially with finals fast approaching, but I'm gonna work my ass off to do this because you guys are totally worth it!**

 **Here's Chapter 28! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Claws and Crosses**

"You've been at it all night, Miss Wayne. I need to try and get some food down your neck," Alfred chided as he entered the bunker below the Manor.

When he'd retired the previous evening, she'd been sitting in the same spot, endlessly typing away at her father's computer. She'd done nothing else since she'd gotten home, not even a shower, and her theory about 'JANUS' had only invigorated her to continue.

"Do I smell sausage?" Lucius asked, his feet lazily kicked up on a table.

"Chipolatas, dear Mr. Fox. I've prepared a full English upstairs," Alfred told him.

"I have no idea if that's a 'yes', but I'm starving. Let's eat."

"I think I found something," Selina announced from the desk.

"Your father's files are still running through the decryption program," Fox told her, circling around the desk to take a look. "It could take weeks before we know what we have, and that's if we _can_ decrypt them."

"Yes, but his calendar was only password protected. It was 'Selina', just like the lock," she stated, scrolling through until she found June of two years ago. "Here, the week of his murder, he was supposed to meet a woman named Karen Jennings about something called Pinewood Farms."

"Oh, Pinewood Farms? Sounds, uh, rather quaint," Alfred remarked.

"Or not," Lucius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Most of Wayne Enterprises' black op programs had code names like that. Running Brook, Windy Ridge, a bland name covering up a nasty business."

"This could be what my father was investigating when he was killed."

"I think we might be getting a tad ahead of ourselves, Miss Wayne. I mean, how covert could it possibly be if it's on your old man's calendar?"

"I'll run Karen's name through HR when I get to work, see if there's even a connection," Lucius told them.

"My father had her address," Selina said, taking a pen and paper and jotting it down. "She lives somewhere right outside the city."

"I-I think we should just wait and see what Mr. Fox comes up with first, Miss Wayne–"

"I'm done waiting, Alfred," Selina stated, standing from the desk and walking to the cave's exit. "I'm going up there, with or without you."

"Imagine my surprise." Alfred complained as she strolled off. "You are gonna eat something on the way!"

Selina walked down to her room, taking a quick shower before going to pick out her clothes for the day.

She stepped into her massive walk-in closet, and her heart sank.

Oh, right…she was Selina Wayne, again.

Her closet was filled wall-to-wall with the fanciest clothes money could buy. She had piles of shoe boxes stretching to the ceiling. The cumulative price of that room was probably more than all the money she'd seen in her two months of thievery with Bruce.

And she couldn't imagine wearing any of it.

Most of it didn't fit anymore, since she'd gotten several inches taller during her stay in the Narrows, and even if it did fit she couldn't imagine being seen in public wearing such colorful, frilly things.

She settled on a pair of brown winter boots, black jeans, a burgundy long-sleeve shirt, and a dark beanie to restrain her curls.

She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. It wasn't the same as her Narrows look, but it was the closest thing she could manage with what she had to work with.

She went to the back of her closet and dug through the forest of coats, eventually finding her leather jacket. She'd hidden it away, refusing to let Alfred lay a hand on it for fear of him throwing it out (which he'd tried to do several times already).

She sighed and put it back, switching it out for a light-grey overcoat that ended just above her knee.

She hesitantly looked back in the mirror.

She saw Selina Wayne.

And the reflection, that girl staring back at her, it sure as hell wasn't her, but it was who she needed to be right now.

* * *

Bruce Kyle had vanished.

An hour earlier, you could've found him clearing out the Factory, bringing whatever he wanted to keep to Henry Grant's Boxing Gym.

But now? He was simply gone, disappearing into thin air.

He'd left the Gym with nothing but the clothes on his back, a pair of brass knuckles, and lunch money.

He spent the night going from shelter to shelter, searching for any signs of Jean-Paul Valley.

Someone knew where he was; he just had to find them first.

He started in the southeast corner of the city near the Moth (the elected name of the new street mall) and working his way up in a sweep. He heard all sorts of tall tales from the homeless people he spoke to, ranging from Jean stealing their winning lottery ticket to him eating their cat.

However, one dude's story stuck out to him. He was an old crack-head named Johnny who hung out near the Theater District, but he'd supposedly been Falcone's number one hitman before Zsasz came along. Johnny Dead-Shot they used to call him. Floyd practically worshiped him. Nowadays he was crazy and depressed, but he was no liar.

Unfortunately, Bruce found him high. So to sober him up, Bruce brought him to the roof of the building and held him over the gap by his collar.

His head cleared up real quick.

Bruce asked him if he'd seen the guy in the picture, showing him Jack's photograph of Jean.

Johnny stared at the picture for a few seconds, and then nodded, but he'd only talk if Bruce pulled him back to safety.

Bruce relented and let him back down onto the roof. "Talk," he growled.

"Alright, alright!" Johnny complained, reaching into his coat for a cigarette. Bruce ripped it out of his hand and Johnny glared at him.

Bruce raised his fist and repeated, "Talk. Then you can smoke."

Johnny huffed. "Fine. It's not much, but Marco, the cop from the Narco unit, told me the other day that he'd seen Galavan's kid walking around Downtown."

"Why the hell were you talking to Marco from Narco?" Bruce asked.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "They got weekly quotas to fill, I know half the dealers in the city. You've got a lot to learn, kid."

Bruce dropped his fist, saying, "Fine, but if you're screwing with me, I'll come back here and kick the shit outta you, understand?"

Johnny scoffed and lit his cigar. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Bruce ran off, leaping to the next rooftop over.

So, the cops knew something? And why was Jean just walking around downtown? It wasn't very subtle of him.

He shook his head. He had too many questions, and the only way to answer them was to start at the source: the GCPD.

* * *

Selina's car slowly pulled up to a house in the middle of nowhere. It was a small wooden cottage, its window shades pulled shut and untouched snow covering the porch.

It looked as abandoned as a house could.

Selina stepped out of the car, scanning the house and slowly starting towards it. Alfred walked alongside her, his hand behind his back and holding a gun.

They stepped up to the front door and Alfred knocked.

They paused, but no reply came.

Alfred shook his head, saying with finality, "Nope. No joy, never mind," and starting to turn back to the car. "Still kind of nice to get out of the manor, have a little drive in the country."

Meanwhile, Selina knelt down so she was eye-level with the deadbolt. She removed a lock pick from her boot and went to work.

"Oh, that's terrific, isn't it? He's made a bloody tea leaf out of you," Alfred complained. "'Street smarts?' Street smarts, my eye."

"Shush, Alfred," Selina told him, trying to focus on the lock. "These are merely technical skills."

"Oh?"

"Morally neutral." She smirked to herself as the deadbolt turned back. "And that's not all he taught me…"

Alfred's eyes widened, starting, "What the bloody hell do you mean by–"

There was a clatter inside the shack. Selina jumped back from the door. Alfred stepped in front of her and took the handle. He removed his gun from his jacket and slowly cracked the door open. He crept inside gun raised as natural light slowly filled the room.

It was almost pitch black in the small house, but what she could see didn't look good. There were large, 3-fingered scratch marks covering the walls, window blinds were torn to shreds.

Some _thing_ had been in there, and it'd made a mess of the place.

"What is it?" she asked apprehensively.

A woman's scream shattered the silence. There was a shuffle of movement in the darkness, the sound of flesh being torn, the pistol clattering on the ground, and then silence again. Alfred gingerly held his right hand, now bleeding profusely, close to his chest.

Selina drew her knife from her pocket, flicking it open as she stepped towards the gun.

"Careful Miss Wayne," Alfred warned. "She's got some kind of weird hunting knife."

Selina picked up the gun and held it towards the darkness. Her eyes had started to adjust, and she could make out a vague figure of a woman. She was cowering in the corner of the room. She shook her head, putting away the knife and slowly setting the gun back down on the floor.

Their attacker wasn't a threat. She was just scared.

"We don't want to hurt you," Selina spoke into the darkness. Alfred stammered out a contradiction, but she ignored him, slowly and calmly saying, "My name is Selina Wayne. I just wanna talk to you."

"Selina Wayne?" a soft, tender voice asked from the darkness. A woman stepped into the dim light. She was quite pretty, but her deep, heavy eye bags made her look old and weary. "You're Selina Wayne?" she asked.

Alfred made a mad grab for the gun, holding it level at the woman's chest. "That's far enough," he warned. She stopped and he ordered, "Drop the knife."

"It's not a knife," the woman retorted, seeming genuinely annoyed by the word 'knife'.

"Whatever it was you used to do this to me, just drop it right now," Alfred told her, gesturing to his bloodied hand.

"I can't," she replied. She slowly raised her left hand.

Rather, where her left hand was supposed to be.

Where a human hand should've been was a reptilian, four-fingered claw.

The three of them simply stared at each other, Selina and Alfred at a loss for words.

The woman sighed, holding her right hand out apprehensively. "Listen to me–"

"That's far enough," Alfred warned, aiming the gun at her chest.

"Alfred!" Selina chided.

"Look around you, Miss Wayne. Listen, I have no idea what you are, but whatever that thing is, it's bloody dangerous," he told the woman.

Selina shook her head. "Do you know who I am? You seemed to recognize me."

"How did you find me?" the woman countered.

"My father, Thomas Wayne, came here the week before he died," Selina answered. "He had it in his calendar."

"His calendar? Great. Were you followed?" she asked.

"No. I don't know… By who?" Selina asked, looking at Alfred for help.

Alfred shook his head. "No, no, we weren't followed."

"Good." The woman inhaled sharply and told them, "Then you can leave."

"Not until you answer my questions," Selina insisted. "I know my father came to talk to you about something called Pinewood Farms. What is that?"

The woman shook her head, using her reptilian hand to poke at the cinders of the dying fireplace. "God. You don't know anything, do you?" she murmured.

"So tell me."

The woman sighed. "Do you not understand that these people will kill you?"

"I've been trying to tell her that," Alfred mumbled.

"I'm not afraid to die," Selina stated. "Not if it means doing the right thing."

"Yeah? How'd that work out for your dad?" the woman asked, standing from the fireplace. "You have to go. It's not safe for you here."

Selina stared at the woman and sighed in exasperation. "I don't care. Whatever my father was investigating got him and my mom killed. You're the first person I've found who might know why," Selina told her, her voice starting to break towards the end. "Please. You have to tell me what he was doing," she pleaded.

* * *

"Sorry about your hand," Karen told Alfred as he tenderly wrapped it in gauze. "I don't get many visitors. You, uh, spooked me."

"What, what, we, we spooked you?" Alfred asked.

"How long have you lived here?" Selina interrupted, trying to not let Alfred pick up a head of steam.

"Ten years," Karen answered. "Ever since Pinewood."

"Is that where you got that?" Selina asked, nodding to Karen's hand.

Karen sighed. "Pinewood Farms was a bioengineering program at Wayne Enterprises, the kind that was kept off the books. I was one of their first volunteers."

"What? You volunteered for that, did you?" Alfred asked rudely.

"I didn't have many options at the time. I was at Blackgate."

"Blackgate? Nice…" Alfred muttered. "I take it you weren't a guard, then?"

"I was born with a crippled arm," Karen told him. "Growing up, my father liked two things, booze and beating his deformed daughter. One night, I fought back. He fell down the stairs and broke his neck." The only response to her story was the breeze in the wind chimes. "I went to Blackgate for murder."

Selina shook her head. "But that's self-defense."

Karen shrugged. "Well, people are scared of different. Jury sent me away. One day, these men show up, tell me they're gonna fix my arm. Not only fix it, make it better. Instead, they turned me into the monster who everybody thought I was."

"Did my father know what was going on at Pinewood Farms?" Selina asked hesitantly, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer.

"No," Karen replied, shaking her head as if the proposition was crazy. "No. When he found out what was going on, when he saw what they were doing to us, he shut it down. Paid to put us into hiding."

"So how many were there of you?" Alfred asked.

"I'm not sure. I know most didn't survive the experiments," Karen replied, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"It started up again, didn't it?" Selina asked, standing from her chair. "That's why my father came to see you after all those years."

"He wasn't sure, but he had his suspicions," Karen answered. "He came to warn me."

Selina's mind was working a mile a minute, trying to connect all the loose threads she'd been collecting for almost two years. "Whoever was running Pinewood, whoever started it up again, I know that's who killed my parents," she concluded. "Do you remember any names?"

Karen shook her head. "None of them ever used their real names around us, but the man who was in charge, I can still see his face every time I close my eyes. They called him Philosopher."

"Then you need to take us there," Selina stated. "You need to take us to Pinewood Farms."

Karen chuckled nervously, averting her eyes to the floor.

"My father risked his life to save you," Selina told her. "I'm asking you to repay that favor. I promise, nothing will happen to you."

Karen stared at her for a long time. Selina could see the fear in her eyes, all the memories of the horrors she'd endured resurfacing all at once. She knew what that was like, the pain the woman must've been going through, but she needed her help. She'd come too far.

Karen gave a small nod. "Okay," she whispered.

* * *

It was midday when Bruce reached the GCPD. He pulled his hood up and walked along the wall, keeping his head down and his eyes averted as he made his way into the precinct.

He knew most of the cops in the GCPD, some of whom were friends with Ted and some of whom were with Jack. But the other half the cops in that room probably wanted him dead, so he didn't risk being recognized.

Instead, he made his way through the hallways, eventually coming across the Narcotics unit.

The door was shut, but Bruce could vaguely make out through the translucent window that there were no other cops but Marco in the room.

But that wasn't to say he was alone, just that he was the only cop.

Bruce gagged.

He knocked on the door and slid the photograph under it. There was a loud shuffle in the room as Marco yelled, "Just a minute!"

"Tell me what you know about the kid in the picture or I'll open the door and scream," Bruce threatened. A few dozen cops would rush to the scene and find Marco in a not-so-great spot.

He heard a zipper get pulled up and heavy footsteps approach the door.

"What do you wanna know?" Marco asked.

"Where was he? Where did he go? Was he with anyone? And talk quick or I'll yell."

"Fine, fine!" Marco told him desperately. "He was in Downtown–"

"I already know that," Bruce complained, rattling the handle of the door.

"Don't!" Marco yelled, racking his brain for more information. "He was going East, maybe towards Galavan's building? And he was alone, I think. That's all I know, I swear!"

"Did you approach him?" Bruce asked.

"No. I mean, I was gonna, but he just, kinda, disappeared, I guess. I turned around and he was gone."

Bruce huffed. "Slide the picture back under the door." He did so, and Bruce stuffed it back into his pocket. "By the way, you're a terrible cop," Bruce told him, walking towards the back exit of the GCPD.

Before Bruce reached the door, he heard another man's voice ask, "Who the hell was that?"

"No idea, but you should get outta here," Marco replied.

Bruce shook his head. Gross, but at least he had new information.

It was kind of dumb of him to not check Galavan's tower first thing, but it seemed like such a stupid place to go for a wanted criminal, somewhere so obvious that a cop wouldn't waste his time looking there.

But then again, wouldn't that make it a perfect place to hide?

* * *

"It doesn't exactly scream, 'top secret bioengineering lab,' does it?" Alfred asked as they pulled up to an old, three-story abandoned building. The windows were all broken or boarded up, the roof was in shambles, and the white paint had been peeled off in strips. The most frightening thing about the building, however, wasn't its exterior, or even what was presumably hidden inside.

The worst part of it was its location.

Pinewood Farms wasn't off in some top-secret, remote location where no one would ever find it, like where Karen had been.

Instead, Pinewood Farms was a regular old building in the middle of Gotham. Thousands of people probably walked past the building every day, going about their lives, completely oblivious to the horrors occurring inside. Selina could imagine the grief those people had gone through, to know just how close freedom was yet unable to reach it.

When she found whatever sick bastard did this, they'd pay.

"This is it," Karen told them, seeming paler than normal.

Alfred sighed. "All right, you two sit tight. I'll have a shifty–" They were halfway to the entrance. "Honestly…" he groaned, hastening after them.

Selina picked the lock and the door slowly swung open. The inside was just as bad as the exterior, cobwebs decorating the peeling walls and thick layers of dust coating the furniture.

The entered slowly, Alfred in front with the gun.

They turned into a room on the left. It vaguely resembled a dentist's office, but the chair had shackles attached to the arm and leg rests. On the wall was a tool rack, filled with hand-saws, knives, and all sorts of metal tools and equipment. Selina had a bad feeling that the people who'd sat in that chair weren't there to take care of a cavity.

She took a quick glance back at Karen. The woman had gone white in the face and was holding her clawed hand close to her chest, her eyes rapidly darting about the room. Selina hated herself for putting the woman through this, but it was a necessary evil. Besides, her father had risked everything to save Karen, so it was her turn to repay the favor…right?

They went back into the main hall and walked up to the second floor.

They found room after room, all filled with horrible contraptions, x-rays, and pictures of former experiments. But there was no sign of life.

Alfred bent down to examine a pair of handcuffs attached to a wheelchair. He shook his head and sighed, "I'd wager nothing's been touched in here for a decade."

They both turned and looked at Karen, but the woman was silently looking down a cold, damp hallway, frozen in place.

"Are you okay?" Selina asked, placing a tentative hand on the woman's shoulder.

Karen turned around. The fear was evident in her eyes. She was definitely not okay. She sniffed and breathlessly told them, "Seeing all this, it feels like yesterday that I was here." She took a deep, shaky breath, and continued, "I'm sorry. It looks like your father was wrong. But, maybe it's for the best," she offered, her eyes glued to the floor. "You can move on now."

Selina saw right through her. "You knew this place was shut down, didn't you? Is that why you brought me here, hoping I'd give up?" she accused.

"Steady on, Miss Wayne," Alfred warned.

"No, she's hiding something," Selina told him. "I can see it in her eyes. I don't understand. What won't you tell me?"

Karen stared at her, mouth agape and unmoving. She took a deep breath, but never got to respond.

"HEY!" a man's voice shouted from down the hall. An old security guard with a flashlight lumbered toward them. "Hey, this is private property! I'm gonna call the cops!" he threatened.

That wasn't good…

But suddenly, the man stopped dead in his tracks.

Emphasis on the 'dead' part.

One second, he was walking towards them yelling threats, and the next there was a red line on his neck, drawn from ear to ear. He collapsed on the spot, drowning in his own blood.

That _really_ wasn't good…

Selina just barely caught a glimpse of the attacker before Alfred forcefully grabbed her arm and started running. She kept up with him as they ran, but her mind was back there.

What had she just seen?

I mean, sure, she'd seen a lot of weird shit in Gotham over the last year, and she'd seen her fair share of assassins, but this was different.

The assassin in question wore an all-black armored body suit, had dozens of knives strapped across his chest, and a pair of swords on his back. All of that was pretty normal.

The weird part: the guy was wearing a mask that resembled an owl.

Why an owl? Like, of all the animal mascots you could choose from to intimate people, you pick an owl? At least pick a spider or a bat or something scary!

Alfred pulled her hard to the left, jerking the three of them down an adjacent hallway. Just as he did, a knife lodged into the wall right where her head had been a second earlier.

As they sprinted towards the exit, something occurred to Selina:

This guy was a professional assassin, and he was getting out run by a butler, a fifteen year old girl, and a woman who'd spent over a decade indoors.

She took a glance back and saw the man casually walking down the hallway, twirling a knife in his hand.

He threw it just as they reached the door, and it lodged into the doorframe, inches from Karen's head.

That meant one of two things: he was either had really bad aim, or (more likely) he was playing with them, toying with his prey before striking the final blow.

Yeah, she took back the whole thing about owls not being scary.

They broke out into the open air and sprinted towards the car. Alfred tossed Selina the keys and yelled, "I'll cover you!" before stopping dead in his tracks and opening fire. Their assassin was standing in the doorway, several dozen feet behind them.

Selina saw Alfred's first shot his its mark, the dead center of the man's chest.

The man didn't even react.

Instead, he removed a radio from his belt, said something into it, and turned back around. Without word, he disappeared back into the building.

Alfred stood there, utterly bewildered.

He looked back at the two girls, asking, "You see that, as well?"

Selina nodded. Police sirens started wailing in the distance. She tossed him the keys.

"We need to go. Now."

* * *

Bruce walked all the way from the GCPD to Galavan's tower.

He hated that place with every fiber of his being, and if there was any other option he would've never stepped foot in it again.

But this was the best lead he'd had in three whole weeks, and he had to follow it. Until he found Jean-Paul Valley, no one was safe. Namely: Selina Wayne. He didn't know what Jean wanted, but he had a few ideas of which none were good.

He used a service elevator to reach the penthouse, eventually arriving at a pair of giant double doors.

"Billionaires…" he muttered. He tried to turn the door handle, but it was locked from the inside.

And that was a _major_ red flag.

He pulled up his hood and black bandana, covering everything but his eyes. He knelt so he was eye-level with the deadbolt. He removed a lock pick from his jacket and went to work, turning the bar back as silently as possible.

There was a small ' _CLICK_ ', and he removed the lock pick, trading it out for a pair of brass knuckles. He paused and listened. He could vaguely make out the voice of a familiar newscaster.

He was sure of it now: someone was inside.

A part of him wanted it to be Jean, and a part of him would rather see Jack sitting in there.

But he'd come this far. There was no turning back now.

He slowly cracked open the door, peering around the room. Just as he'd presumed, the television was turned on in the living room, but he saw no one.

He opened the door silently, slipping inside the apartment. There were thick layers of dust on almost everything. The floor was dirty and there was a blood stain on one of the carpets (probably from when Gordon finally caught Galavan). The place looked almost untouched.

He crept forward into the living room. He stepped around the couch. On the low table was a steaming cup of coffee.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

All the hair on his body stood on end.

It was times like these when he thanked his lucky star for being left on the streets as a five year old. Had he not built up a sort of sixth sense over the last decade of his life, he would've been dead.

Instead, he whirled around and put his fists together, creating a V shape with his knuckles.

He caught the blade in between his fists, an inch from cleaving straight through his face.

His victory was short lived, however, as his attacker kicked him in the chest. Bruce flew backwards, going over the coffee table in an awkward backward-somersault. He somehow came up on his feet and was able to block another downward swing of the sword with an uppercut.

He leapt up on the table and tackled his attacker. His opponent belly-to-belly suplexed him, tossing him clean over the couch. Bruce rolled to his feet just as his attacker leapt off the back of the couch, sword raised high for another downward strike.

Bruce leapt forwards, meeting his attacker mid-air. He punched him hard in the gut, causing his opponent to double over and fall when he hit the ground.

Bruce finally had a second to breathe. His attacker was dressed in dark cargo pants and combat boots (which he was starting to notice everyone in Gotham wore nowadays), with a hooded cloak and helmet, the mask of which was decorated with a red and white cross. They were swinging around a European-style, double edged sword, its blade tinged red. They had a shield strapped to their back with the same logo as the mask.

The whole fight, Bruce had only been thinking about survival. But now, it dawned on him _who_ he was fighting.

His opponent had just regained his footing when Bruce yelled, "JEAN, STOP! IT'S ME!" He pulled down his mask and hood, holding his hands out in surrender.

His attacker stopped. "Bruce?" he asked, removing his own mask and hood.

Sure enough, there stood Jean-Paul Valley. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Jean dropped his arms to his sides. "What do you want?" he asked, seeming genuinely annoyed by the intrusion.

Bruce blanked. To be honest, he had spent all his time trying to find him in the first place, so he hadn't had time to think about what would happen when he _did_ find him. He cleared his throat and stated, "I heard you were back in Gotham."

Jean nodded. "Okay. So…?"

"I was trying to find you," Bruce told him.

Jean cocked an eyebrow, casually tossing his sword and helmet on the couch. "Why?" he asked, walking over to the fridge.

Bruce stammered, "I, well, I wasn't entirely, exactly sure of where everything stood between us after, you know, last time you were in Gotham…"

Jean rolled his eyes and removed a dagger from his belt, twirling it around in his fingers as he dug through the refrigerator. "I think what you meant to say was you didn't know if I was still brainwashed, right?"

Bruce nodded slowly. "Pretty much, yeah."

Jean laughed, a sound that Bruce had never heard before. He shook his head. "Nah, man. I'm done with all that shit. But, I guess that is technically why I'm here."

Bruce knit his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You want something to drink?" Jean asked offhandedly. Bruce shook his head. "Suit yourself. How'd you like the coffee trick?"

Bruce shook his head dismissively. "Yeah, sure, it was great. But what do you mean 'that's why you're here'?"

Jean pointed to a closet off to the side. "See for yourself," he said, casually leaning up against the counter and cracking open a soda can.

Bruce obliged. He opened the closet door and found a stack of neatly folded brown cloaks as tall as he was. He took one and let it fall open.

There was a large gash through the middle of the cloak, the brown material stained red.

Bruce started, "These are from the–"

"Monks of the Order of St. Dumas," Jean finished in a dramatic voice, taking a seat in the living room. "I've been off hunting 'em down, one by one. Europe, Asia, wherever they're hiding."

Bruce nodded. "That's a lot of people," he said slowly, picking up another one. The cloak was clearly made for a child, and its hood had been sliced off. There was a ring of red around the neck area. He quickly put it back in the pile, trying not to think of who had once worn it.

Jean shrugged. "Most left the Order after Theo and Creel died. Those that stayed chose their own fate," he stated, taking a long, casual slurp of his orange soda.

"So, what are you doing here?" Bruce asked, closing the closet of Jean's horrible trophies.

Jean sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Bruce took the seat across from him. "Bet."

Jean smirked, raising the drink to his lips.

"Galavan's alive," he said simply before taking another sip.

Bruce choked on air. "What?" he asked, a little louder than he'd anticipated. "That's not…he couldn't…"

Jean nodded. "That's what I thought. But my source proved otherwise." He set the empty can down on the coffee table and said, "I thought I'd killed them all, but…" he shrugged, "at least I get the best for last. And when I kill him, the Order is finished once and for all."

Bruce shook his head. He was having a hard time believing Theo Galavan, the guy who got beaten and shot to death and then got an umbrella stuffed down his throat by Penguin, could possibly be alive. "Who's your source?" he asked.

Jean got a wickedly fascinated look in his eyes. "Just some people who hate the Order as much as I do. They call themselves the League of Assassins."

The hair on the back of Bruce's neck stood on end, but he ignored it. "Are you working for them?" he asked.

Jean shrugged. "Not exactly. They don't give me orders or anything; they just help me out with money and weapons and info, stuff like that. I only work for myself nowadays."

Bruce nodded. Seeing no reason to stay there any longer, he stood from the couch and told him, "Well, good luck with that. I gotta go."

Jean nodded and stood from the couch. He put out his hand, saying, "It was cool seeing ya, Bruce."

Bruce paused. This was the same guy who manipulated Selina to the point of almost sacrificing herself for a cult ritual. This was the same guy who'd just recently gone on a mass murder spree. He was the same guy who now worked with a group called the 'League of Assassins'!

Could he really be trusted?

He shook Jean's hand. "Likewise." Jean's hand went slack, trying to end the hand shake, but Bruce had no intention of letting go, instead applying more and more pressure. He pulled Jean slightly closer, his voice going deadly calm as he added, "Oh, and if you step so much as one toe out of line, if you get _anywhere_ _near_ Selina Wayne, you're gonna have a much bigger problem on your hands than Galavan. Am I clear?"

Jean stared back at him, unwavering. He smirked, sighing, "Bruce, you don't need to worry about that. I'm here to kill Galavan, and then I'll be outta your hair."

Bruce relented, letting go of Jean's half-crushed hand. "Fine, just make it quick."

Jean nodded and Bruce started towards the door.

"I'd be done faster if you helped me find him," Jean called.

Bruce turned back, throwing up a suspicious eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Jean shrugged. "You know Gotham, I know Galavan. And if he's back, then _he_ might be going after Selina."

Bruce clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together with turmoil. This was a bad, bad, _bad_ idea.

But, then again, it would mean he could keep an eye on Jean. He could personally keep him away from Selina…

He sighed. "Fine," he muttered, regretting the word the moment it came out of his mouth.

Jean smirked. "Good. Meet me at Fifth and Jefferson tomorrow morning at eight."

"What are we gonna do?" Bruce asked.

"Visit the last place Galavan was seen," Jean replied. "Arkham."

* * *

"Where're we going?" Karen asked.

"The Narrows," Selina told her, ignoring the groan from the driver. "I have a friend there. He's gonna help us get you out of town."

Karen shook her head. "Selina, you don't have to do this."

"I made a promise nothing would happen to you," Selina told her. "I intend to keep it." She took a deep breath and asked, "The guy who ran Pinewood Farms, could you identify him?" Karen nodded slowly. "Okay, we have someone tracking down the files of all the scientists who've worked for Wayne Enterprises over the years. After that, you can disappear. No one will ever hurt you again."

Karen smiled; the first time Selina had ever seen her do that. "You sound just like him." She took a heavy breath and told her, "I have been hiding something from you, Selina. Your father did more than just rescue me from Pinewood."

"What do you mean?"

"After what happened, I was _so_ angry, but he never gave up on me. He kept visiting, gave me books to read, a music box for my birthday. He kept reminding me that I wasn't alone, that I wasn't a monster. I never knew what a real father should be until Thomas Wayne." She sighed again. "That's why I didn't want you to pursue this. I didn't want you to see him differently. Your father _started_ Pinewood, Selina."

Selina simply stared at her, hoping she'd misunderstood. "What?"

"His intentions were good," Karen said quickly, "but the man in charge took advantage of him. He didn't realize the truth until it was too late. Pinewood was his burden, but it doesn't have to be yours."

Selina clenched her jaw. "It's not a burden," she said, looking Karen firmly in the eyes. "It's who I am."

"HOLD ON!" Alfred shouted from the front seat. The car swerved, slamming into a barrier.

Selina had been on the right side of the car where it'd hit the barrier, trapping her inside the cabin. She struggled with the seatbelt, but it was stuck.

Suddenly, the temperature in the car dropped.

"Alfred?" she asked nervously. "What's going on?"

No response.

"Alfred?" she asked again.

Silence.

Karen was groaning next to her, holding her bleeding forehead. "Selina…are you okay?" she asked hazily.

"I'm fine. But Alfred–"

Their driver moaned in pain. At least he was still breathing…

"New problem…" Karen muttered, looking at the windows which were rapidly being covered in frost. She slashed at her seatbelt, freeing herself.

Alfred slowly turned around, asking, "You both all right?"

"I'm fine, Alfred. Look!" Selina told him, pointing out the window.

A man was approaching them. He was wearing an astronaut outfit, without the dome helmet, and was holding a weird gun.

"Mr. Freeze…" Selina muttered. "We need to get out of here, now!"

"No."

Alfred and Selina both turned on Karen. "What?" the prior asked. "We need to go, he'll kill you."

"I know," Karen told her. "That's why you two need to go. It's me he's after."

"We're not leaving without you," Selina told her.

Karen took Selina's shoulders in her hands and smiled widely. "I'm _so_ glad I met you, Selina. Your dad would be so proud of you, of the woman that you've become." Karen hugged her tightly.

She pulled away and brushed a lock of hair out of Selina's face, just like her mother had always done when she was little. For a moment, Selina saw Karen for what she'd always wanted: a sibling. Someone to share life with, the joy and the pain alike. Her father had been like a father to Karen, so that made her Selina's sister. That made her Selina's family.

Then, she opened the car door, and ran towards Freeze.

She yelled for Karen to stop, to run away and save herself. But it was no use.

Alfred reached back and shielded her eyes as it happened. One second, Karen was standing there, unafraid of what was to come. The next, shards of red ice littered the ground where she'd stood.

Karen Jennings was dead, and it was entirely her fault.

Selina screamed.

* * *

She sat in bed until the early hours of the morning, churning over the events of the past day.

She had this nagging feeling that she was overlooking something, like there was a single puzzle piece out of place that was preventing her from seeing the whole picture. It was frustrating because she knew how close she was, there was just one thing missing.

She turned over for the thousandth time that night. She stared at the phone on her nightstand. Bruce would know what to do…and if he didn't at least he'd understand what she was going through. But she couldn't call him, not right now. Even if she did, he probably wouldn't pick up. And what if he had Jean in a headlock and his phone rang? No, she wouldn't call him, not yet. She could figure this out herself.

Holding fast to her resolve, she turned back over and closed her eyes, going over every single word Karen had said to her today.

All she could think of were her last words. Would her father be proud of who she was? How could she possibly live up to him? She couldn't even solve a key code on his computer! Damn that cave…

It hit her.

The Philosopher.

She'd seen that name before.

She ran through the hallways like a bat out of hell, practically diving for the remote to the bunker. She didn't even wait for the fireplace to go all the way down into the floor, jumping over the barrier halfway.

She threw the door open and ran to her father's filing cabinets. She hadn't had the heart to change any of it, but her father had been quite organized, so it didn't take her long to find the newspaper article in question.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Miss Wayne?" Alfred asked, laboring into the cave. "It's four in the morning…"

Selina ignored him, scanning over the clipping. It was a picture of her father and a bunch of other men from Wayne Enterprises, all a part of a cricket team.

The man next to her father: _Hugo Strange – The Philosopher_

 **A/N: And so begins the four-part finale of Season 2! It's been a long time coming and I'm really excited to show you all that I have in store! All of these chapters are gonna be well over 5k words, so be prepared. I almost left off the whole finale scene with Freeze and Karen, just mentioning it on the newscast playing in Galavan's penthouse, but I'm glad I wrote it out in hindsight.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and if you did or have any other comments/questions/concerns about the story, make sure to Review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **Also, this is totally an afterthought that I only realized when I was just about to publish the chapter, but I started this series on April 25** **th** **, 2018. The final episode of Season 5 airs on April 25** **th** **, 2019. On this series' one year anniversary, Season 5 will conclude on the show, and I'm releasing the first chapter of Season 3 for this series. It's not really important; I just thought it was cool how stuff works out sometimes.**


	29. Azrael

**A/N: Okay, so I originally was going to publish a single, ridiculously long chapter called** _ **Azrael Unleashed**_ **which covered all the events of episodes 19 and 20 of Season 2. But when I finished writing it, I realized it was almost ten thousand words long, so I decided to split them up and publish them at the same time.** **I need to stay on schedule for the April 25** **th** **debut of Season 3 after all. So without further ado, here are Chapter 29 and 30! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Azrael**

"Welcome, Mr. St. Cloud," a middle aged, African-American lady greeted. Jean had just pulled through the gates of Arkham in his bright red Maserati, stepping out of the car to greet Arkham's chief of staff, Miss Ethel Peabody.

"Thank you for having me," Jean told her. He tossed the keys to a valet boy and warned, "Be careful with that. It's worth more than you." He turned back to Peabody with a questioning smile. "Wasn't Strange supposed to be here? I thought we'd arranged a meeting."

Peabody nodded. " _Professor_ Strange is currently with a patient, but you can wait in his office until he is finished."

Jean huffed loudly. "Fine, but make it quick. I have more important things to do today."

Peabody nodded again, although it looked like it took everything in her not to strangle the brat. "Of course, Mr. St. Cloud. Right this way, please."

She led him through the maze that was Arkham Asylum. He noted that even if a patient were to escape their cell, they'd have a hell of a time getting out of the building. They walked deeper and deeper into the Asylum to the point where he could practically smell the crazy. Finally, they reached a corridor that led to a pair of glass double doors.

Peabody opened them and told him to take a seat wherever he liked. He opted for the chair behind the desk, kicking his feet up on the counter. If he was playing the billionaire brat role, he wasn't gonna hold back. Peabody rolled her eyes and told him, "Professor Strange will only be a minute."

"Thank you, Ethel," Jean told her, grabbing a pencil off the desk and twirling it around in his fingers.

Peabody walked off.

Jean had half a mind to ransack the room right then and there for evidence. He had the opportunity…

But no, that wasn't his job. Besides that, he felt like he was being watched. So he sat there, waiting patiently for Strange to arrive.

It only took half a minute for the doors to open again, but it wasn't Ethel who'd opened them.

"Mr. Strange!" Jean announced, standing from the chair to shake the man's hand.

Strange's eye visibly twitched at seeing Jean behind his desk. He gave the smallest of grins and said, "Hello, Mr. St. Cloud. Are you well?"

Jean nodded. "I'm doing great, and please call me Sterling. Mr. St. Cloud was my dad."

The doctor nodded. "Of course…Sterling." He gestured for Jean to take the visitor's chair, taking the chair behind the desk for himself. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Jean sighed. "Well, it's not as overly important as my secretary," (who'd been voiced reluctantly by Bruce), "probably made it seem. As you know, my poor, late Uncle Theo was brought here after he…died. Well, my sister and I received the belongings from his final will, but there was a family ring ascribed to me, as the next male heir, that I never received. I was led to believe that my uncle had it in his possession when he met his unfortunate end, so I was wondering if you were in possession of it."

Strange sighed and silently thought for a moment. He shook his head. "My sincerest apologizes, but I have no recollection of finding any such ring. We removed all clothing items before cremating the body."

Jean shook his head. "I'm certain he was wearing it that night. Would you mind if I looked through his belongings? That ring is worth a lot of money, and I'd be happy to accommodate you for your time," he told the man, already reaching for his wallet.

Strange nodded slowly. "Very well, Mr. St. Cloud, follow me."

They walked down a pair of hallways before reaching a room filled with large lockers, the confiscated belongings of the inmates of Arkham.

The doctor led him down the rows, eventually reaching 'T. Galavan.'

There were no locks on the doors, so Jean opened it. Inside hung an old, withered suit, a pair of expensive shoes caked in sand and mud, and a small cardboard box sitting on the top shelf. Jean took the box and opened it. There was a watch, a wallet, a ring of keys, and some lint, but no ring.

"Is this everything?" Jean asked, going through the pockets of the suit.

Dr. Strange nodded. "Yes. This is all Mr. Galavan had on his person at the time of his death. Perhaps it was taken before his body was found? Perhaps by Mr. Cobblepot?"

Jean sighed. "Whatever. It's only a ring." He reached into his wallet and removed several hundred dollar bills, handing them to Strange. "Thank you for your help."

The doctor smiled, slipping the money into his pocket. "It is no problem at all. May I escort you out?"

Jean nodded and they started out of the room. He read the names of the lockers as they went, saying, "You've got some pretty big names in here. Pike, Cobblepot, Valeska…whatever happened to that guy anyway?"

Strange sighed with false grief. "Found dead the day after he broke out. A shame, really. We were making much progress on his mental–"

"Oh, no way, you have Mr. Freeze's stuff!?" Jean asked excitedly, impulsively opening Victor Fries' locker.

It was only open for a split second before Strange slammed it shut, chiding, "Mr. St. Cloud, you are already receiving our fullest graces in letting you access your uncle's belongings. Do not test that grace."

Jean shook his head shamefully. "I'm sorry, Professor Strange. I wasn't thinking."

"I think it'd be best if you leave," Strange stated coldly, keeping his hand firmly on the locker.

Jean nodded. "Right. Well, thank you for your–"

"No problem," Strange told him with a small, cold grin.

A pair of guards escorted Jean out of the Asylum and back to his car. The valet cautiously handed him back his keys.

Jean smirked, removing five hundred dollar bills from his wallet and handing them to the valet. "Word of advice: get the hell out of here," Jean told him, keeping his face light and warm while his words were cold and forewarning. He patted the guy on the shoulder and stepped into his car, flooring it away from the Asylum.

He'd been kicked out, but it wasn't a big deal. He got what he needed.

Mr. Freeze's gun was missing from his locker.

* * *

Meanwhile, Bruce snuck down the hallway, following a pair of guards and a middle aged, African-American lady. The guards were dragging a massive man along with them. It was Aaron Helzinger, one of the only two Maniax who'd survived long enough to get caught, accompanied solely by Barbara Keen.

He'd followed Peabody and Jean inside, disguised as an Arkham security guard. The uniform was a little big on him, but it didn't matter. If he got caught, they'd just throw him out.

And he wasn't planning on getting caught.

He followed Peabody after she left Jean, who'd played his billionaire brat role perfectly. Peabody walked through the maze, eventually reaching a large caged area where the inmates were allowed to interact.

"Inmate Helzinger," she stated in an authoritative, "step forward."

The massive man did as he was told, looking between the lady and the pair of guards with child-like fear. They took him from the cage and led him through the Asylum, Bruce following at a distance.

Where were they going?

They suddenly turned a corner, breaking his line of sight. Bruce quickened his pace. If he lost them in there, he'd never find them again. He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

There was nothing there, just a small room with three walls, no doors, no windows, nothing.

And four people had disappeared into it.

He was missing something…a sliding door, a hidden room…something.

His mental clock was ticking away. Just down the hallway, Strange and Jean had left the office. He needed to move quickly.

The floor hadn't moved, and it didn't seem likely that an elevator came down from the roof and ascended again in the time that Bruce lost vision. More likely, there was something wrong in the walls. He felt around, searching for something. A false wall, a revolving door, a loose panel…

For once in his life, the universe threw him a freebie.

He felt around the edging of the room and found a panel that flipped down, revealing a key hole.

Down the hall, Jean had just made his way out of the locker room.

"Shit…" Bruce muttered. He didn't have time to pick the lock. He had to be in the car by the time Jean drove away.

He put the panel back and ran off towards the parking lot, taking his position in the trunk just as the valet came to get the Maserati for Jean.

The car stopped, he heard Jean thanking the valet, and the car drove off.

Bruce moved the back seat and climbed out of the trunk, saying, "Found a secret panel, possibly a hidden room or elevator or something."

"A secret room?" Jean asked. "Don't you think that's a little far-fetched?"

Bruce scoffed. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Jean nodded. "Well, I know for certain that Mr. Freeze's gun was missing. That and Strange lied about cremating Galavan, I could see it in his face."

* * *

"This man ordered your parents' death? You're sure?" Gordon asked, staring at the photograph of the Wayne Enterprises Cricket Team. First thing that morning, he and Harvey had received an invitation to Wayne Manor, the reasons unspecified.

Selina nodded. "I know he was part of the reason they were killed," she stated. "Why is he not under arrest?"

Bullock sighed. "It's not so simple."

"The evidence we have is far too tenuous for a warrant," Jim told her.

"It's ancient hearsay, not fingerprints, only witness…" Harvey trailed off. She had told them all about Karen Jennings, how the woman had risked her life to help them find Hugo Strange, how she'd eventually sacrificed her life to protect Selina. And even an old, hardened Irishman could tell the poor girl was not over it. "Barnes wouldn't even say no, he would just look at me like I was nuts."

Selina shook her head. "I'm sick of this. We know where Strange is, we know he's hurting people right now, and you two are talking about politics with your boss and getting a piece of paper signed," she chided.

"This is the way it works, Selina," Jim told her calmly.

"Why? You're not a cop anymore," she challenged.

Jim and Bullock simply stared at her. Gordon turned to his partner, asking, "Give us a sec?" Bullock obliged and walked off, leaving her alone with the former detective. "Selina, I know you're frustrated, but we need to do this the right way."

"The right way?" she asked with a mocking tone. "And how many times did that fail with Galavan?"

"It's not the same."

"He bent and broke the law over and over again," Selina said. "And Strange is doing the same thing. His men killed Karen, and maybe my parents." She paused and took a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me. But I fear we're going down the same path as before, and we won't get justice unless–"

"Unless what?" Gordon interrupted.

Selina steeled herself. "What you did to Galavan. What you knew you had to do because of the bureaucracy and the red tape–"

"What I had to do?" Jim growled. "I chose to kill a man in cold blood. And it was the wrong choice. Crossing that line, you'll pay for it. Over and over again, like I have been. Like I still am. And it will make you more like the evil you're trying to fight." Jim took a deep breathe and sighed. "You need to be better. Do you understand me?" Selina simply stared at him, unwavering. "Just hold out a little bit longer. We'll work on Barnes, get him to sign off our warrant and put Strange away for good. The right way."

Selina clenched her jaw. She wasn't going to win this debate, but she wasn't completely giving in. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm going with you."

"Jim!" Bullock yelled, barging into the study and holding out his police radio. "You're not gonna believe this."

* * *

They arrived in the Narrows at a horrifying crime scene. Four male victims had been hung from the ceiling by their ankles, each of their heads encased in a bucket of cement. Captain Barnes was standing in front of them, addressing the press.

He caught a glimpse of Gordon and made a beeline for them.

"Hey, Cap, look who I found," Harvey said.

"Shut it, Bullock!" Barnes chided, turning his rage on Gordon. "You have one hell of a nerve."

"Listen, I just need five minutes of your time…" Gordon told him.

Barnes was having none of it. "Hargrove, Steve! Escort _Mr._ Gordon off my crime scene immediately. And you," he said, turning on Bullock, "we're gonna have a little discussion about this tomorrow morning."

"Captain Barnes, please, hear him out," Selina interjected.

"Listen, kid…" Barnes started angrily. He paused, realized who he was talking to, and then corrected himself, "Miss Wayne, I don't care how much money or pull you have in this town, I'm through talking to him."

"Are you through listening to the truth?" she asked.

Barnes rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, give me a break." Selina simply stared at him, determination written in her eyes. Barnes sighed and relented, "All right, five minutes. No, three minutes."

Jim nodded and they walked off. Selina looked around the building from where they were standing. She recognized the place. They'd never gone inside, but Bruce and her had run over or past it dozens of times. The Factory was only a few blocks south of there. She caught herself looking up at the rafters and the structural supports, formulating how she'd get from one end to the other. This building was still under construction, leaving endless possibilities of perilous jumps and climbs. This place was like a playground for her.

She caught a shift of movement in the corner of her eye. It was up near the roof of the building, and although it was nearly pitch black in the rafters she'd definitely seen something move.

For half a moment, she let herself hope it was Bruce up there watching over them.

But no, that couldn't be right. He was off hunting Jean. He'd only be there if…

Her stomach turned over.

Bruce would only be there if Jean was there, too.

Gunshots echoed through the building, and Selina ran towards them, a small army of cops surrounding her.

They rounded the corner. Barnes was on the ground, seemingly knocked out, and Jim was on his back staring up at a man holding a sword. He was dressed in all black armor and a cloak, his metal mask decorated with red designs that looked suspiciously like blood. Needless to say, the cops opened fire on the attacker.

Selina simply watched in awe as the man turned away from them, leaping up two stories in a single bound, climbing a solid cement pillar barehanded, and escaping into the night.

It was inhuman, impossible, but she'd just witnessed it.

And all Selina could think was, "Jean?"

* * *

That night, Bruce and Jean sat around the Galavan penthouse, as they'd done all day. Jean was adamant all they needed to do was wait for Strange to tip his hand. Once he did, they'd find Galavan and kill him. Bruce didn't trust him at first, but then, later that night, the news broke.

Meanwhile, Selina sat on a couch in the study, sulking over Barnes' and Gordon's harsh words to her. "Stay out of police business," they said. "They had this handled," they said. Bullshit. She'd found out more in twenty four hours than they had in three weeks of investigating Strange. And yet they acted like they knew best? She stared at the muted television. Maybe she should call Bruce, update him on all that she'd found. Hell, she could probably help him track down Jean, if he hadn't already. She didn't know the city quite as well as he did, but two heads were always better than one. She was a second away from dialing his number when the TV caught her eye. She unmuted it.

" _That's right, Dawn. The masked assassin that attacked the GCPD earlier tonight has been identified as the former Mayor, Theo Galavan._ "

Without a word, Bruce and Jean hastily armed themselves and ran out of the apartment. They hit the streets, climbing up a building to get an overhead view. If they moved quickly, Galavan couldn't get too far. They sprinted across the city towards the GCPD, scouring the rooftops for any sign of the man.

Bruce tried to remain calm. Getting worked up would only hinder the mission, but this guy had nearly killed Selina and he would've been successful had Bruce and the police not intervened.

So, needless to say, he was itching for a fight.

When he got his hands on Galavan, he'd make him wish he'd stayed dead.

"Up there!" Jean called over the roaring wind. He was pointing several buildings in front of them where a man in a cloak and armor was running towards them, away from the GCPD.

They leapt across a gap between buildings, and came to a halt. Galavan was only three rooftops away and closing the distance fast.

Jean drew his sword and Bruce pulled on his brass knuckles, both of them putting on their masks and hoods.

"Here he comes…" Bruce muttered. He was only two rooftops away, now. "Should we hide? Ambush him?"

Jean shook his head. "Wait."

Galavan leapt over another gap, now on the adjacent building to them. He stopped, staring across the distance at them.

Bruce saw him reach for his side, where his sword should've been, but there was nothing there. He could make out his face clear as day from there.

Whatever hope he'd had that it _wasn't_ Theo Galavan vanished.

He'd recognize that sneer anywhere.

"Who art thou?" Galavan called to them.

Bruce heard Jean chuckle. "You're demise," he replied.

Bruce rolled his eyes. This wasn't Shakespeare in the park. This was Gotham. "How are you alive, Galavan?" he called.

Galavan shook his head. "I know not who you speak. I am Azrael, the angel of death! Hand of the Order of St. Dumas. You dare stand before me, boy?"

"Azrael…" Jean muttered softly.

"Who the hell is Azrael?" Bruce asked him.

Jean shook his head. "A myth of the Order, a warrior so great Dumas raised him from the dead…"

Bruce couldn't see his face, but he could hear the genuine awe in his voice. Whatever they'd done to Jean for all those years, the 'conditioning', it could resurface at any moment…

He had to take control of the situation right now.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you're Theo Galavan, ya know, the asshole terrorist-mayor. And who the hell are you calling 'boy', old man?" he teased.

"YOU DARE INSULT–"

"Look, can we just fight already and be done with it? I got more important stuff to do tonight," Bruce drawled boredly. "Come on, Jean. Let's kill this clown." No response. "Jean?" he asked, poking his ally's arm.

Jean shook his head quickly, as if coming out of a trance. He nodded. "Yeah. I couldn't have said it better myself." He turned to Galavan, announcing, "We're here to challenge you for the mantle of Hand of the Order! Do you surrender?"

Bruce scoffed. Jumping him would've worked just fine, too. They didn't _have_ to make it a formal challenge. But Jean's words seemed to get a rise out of Galavan.

"If it is death you crave, then I shall provide it!" he roared.

Bruce eyes widened as Galavan jumped across the gap, no run-up, just a straight broad jump, leaping several dozen feet in a single bound.

He dove out of the way as Galavan came crashing down. He didn't have a sword, but the spikes on his gauntlets didn't look too friendly either.

Jean, on the other hand, engaged immediately, swinging his sword around with such speed and grace that even Galavan seemed momentarily overwhelmed. Maybe this was all he could handle…

Unfortunately, it was not the case.

Instead, Galavan punched Jean hard in a chink in his armor, ripped the sword from his hands, and slammed the pommel into Jean's temple. His mask clattered on the floor, bringing Bruce out of his trance.

Bruce charged Galavan, barely deflecting a swing of the sword that otherwise would've decapitated him. He got inside Galavan's guard, grabbing onto the fabric near his collarbone. Galavan head-butted him, and his vision went blurry. Galavan hit him hard in the stomach causing him to double over, and then put a hard knee to the side of his head. Bruce collapsed.

He stepped on Bruce's chest, raising the sword high in the air with its tip pointed at Bruce's head. "Die, demon!" he yelled, plunging the blade downwards.

Bruce grabbed his ankle and twisted it as hard as he could, knocking Galavan off balance momentarily. He scrambled to his feet, but Galavan recovered faster. He swung the sword, grazing Bruce's neck. He felt something trickle down it to his shoulder, but ignored it. Galavan swung again, this time at his left knee. Bruce was able to dodge it initially, but Galavan followed through, gashing the inside of his right calf. Bruce cried out in pain and fell to the ground, his neck stinging and his right leg on fire. He scrambled backwards on his hands and knees, dodging Galavan's half-hearted swings by the narrowest of margins.

His back slammed into the edge of the building. Behind him was a five story drop. There was nowhere left to run.

Galavan kicked his right calf, and Bruce screamed. He threw one of his brass knuckles, but Galavan simply caught it. He smirked, offhandedly tossing it over his shoulder.

He watched it go, but something else behind Galavan caught Bruce's eye. The dawn was beginning to break. It was going to be a beautiful morning, not a cloud in the sky.

It was almost insulting.

"You've fought well," Galavan told him, casually reaching down and removing Bruce's mask.

"Galavan, you son of a bitch…" Bruce growled, anger taking priority over the agony he was in. "If you so much as _touch_ Selina…"

Galavan stared at him, suddenly frozen in thought. Bruce could see Galavan's mind working.

He suddenly wished he hadn't mentioned Selina.

"The Son of Gotham…" he muttered. "Selina…Selina Wayne." His eyes cleared of their haze and Bruce's heart plummeted. "Death to the Son of Gotham," he chanted.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Bruce didn't even see Jean approaching them, but suddenly he was there, shield-bashing Galavan from behind. Bruce didn't think. He moved on instinct, locking his good foot into Galavan's hip and moving along with Jean's momentum.

The next thing he knew, they'd thrown Galavan clear over the side of the building.

Jean and Bruce stared at each other, not entirely sure if what they'd just done had actually happened, or if they'd just imagined it.

Bruce scrambled to his knees and looked over the edge, searching the streets for Galavan's body. He'd never wanted to see a corpse so badly in his life.

Alas, Galavan had disappeared.

"Where…" Bruce muttered, searching the streets below for any sign of their attacker.

Jean sighed. "We need to go," he stated. "Can you walk?"

"But Galavan–"

"We know where he'll go next," Jean said gravely. "But we have until tonight."

Bruce shook his head. "Why?" he asked, taking Jean's extended hand and hoisting himself up on his good leg, using Jean as a support.

"If he's remembering the night in the tower, the ceremony, he'll wait until midnight. That's when the prophecy can be fulfilled. He'll wait until then to go after Selina."

"But how do you know?" Bruce asked.

Jean shrugged, his expression grim and foreboding. "I don't."

 **A/N: The next chapter should be out right after this one is published, so thanks for reading and I'll see you in the next one!**


	30. Unleashed

**Unleashed**

It was late afternoon when a knock at the door awoke Bruce from his nap. They weren't in Galavan's apartment anymore, not after Galavan remembered his original goal. It was too risky.

Instead, they'd gone to one of Bruce's many safe-houses in the city. Bruce had cleaned up the scrape on his neck, which was barely even skin-deep, and then he'd moved on to the bad cut on his leg. Like he'd feared, the blade had gone deep into his calf muscle. He cleaned it slowly, resisting the urge to scream in pain as he did it, and then stitched it up. It wasn't his best work, but it was functional. Sometime after that, he managed to doze off for a while before being rudely interrupted.

He slowly stood from the couch, testing out his bad leg. It hurt like hell to stand, let alone walk, but he managed to limp over to the door. He took a knife from the nearby kitchen rack and held it behind the door as he opened it. Galavan probably wasn't one to knock, but better safe than sorry.

It wasn't Galavan.

"Hey, Bruce," Selina greeted him. She looked tired.

"Selina," Bruce stated. "What're you doing here?" Her eyes dropped to the floor. Something was wrong. "What's up?" he asked.

"Can we go somewhere to talk? It's a long story…"

They made their way down to Gritty's Diner, sliding into a booth and placing two orders for the house specialty. The whole walk, Bruce's calf was screaming at him, but he needed to stay strong. He couldn't let on that he was injured, not around Selina. Besides, she seemed to be dealing with a lot too. He didn't need to put anything else on her shoulders.

So Bruce simply stared at her, waiting for her to start the conversation.

She eventually obliged, asking, "Have you seen the news?"

Bruce chuckled and nodded. "Walking zombies in Gotham? What's new?"

She smiled and slid an old newspaper article across the desk. She pointed at one man in particular, and an alarm went off in Bruce's head. "Professor Hugo Strange. He worked for my father on a project designed to help people. He perverted it and now I believe he's found a way to–"

"Bring back the dead," Bruce finished. "Which is how Galavan–"

"And Mr. Freeze are running around."

"Did you talk to the cops?" Bruce asked.

She nodded, her gaze becoming dark. "They won't do shit unless they have a warrant. Even Gordon."

"He's not even a cop," Bruce commented.

"That's what I said! But, _no-o_. Suddenly he has to do everything by the book. It's so annoying."

Bruce nodded. "I know the feeling."

She clenched her fists in frustration. "I _know_ Strange is hiding something. And since the police failed to find out what, I think I can do better."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "That so?" he asked.

"When my father shut down Strange, he was killed. I just want the truth, that's all."

Bruce leaned back and nodded slowly. "Okay. So what do you need me for?"

"I want you to break me into Arkham Asylum," Selina told him.

Bruce smiled to himself, pride filling his chest at the brave young woman Selina Wayne had become. He felt, in part, responsible for how strong she'd become over the past three years. It was truly a testament to what moral-conviction and perseverance in disaster could turn a person into.

"No."

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead in surprise. "What…what do you mean 'no'?"

"I'm not breaking you into Arkham," Bruce told her. "End of discussion."

"W-why not?" she asked indignantly.

"Why not break you into a highly-guarded place that's packed with _literal_ crazy people?"

She scoffed, turning to look out the window. "If that's too dangerous for you, I'll just go myself."

Bruce was well aware of what she was doing, but the bait was too damn good not to bite at.

"I didn't say that," he stated, knowing very well that she'd effectively won the argument.

"Prisons are meant to stop people from breaking out, not in. It can be done," she told him.

"It's a looney bin. Not a prison. I know it can be done," Bruce said. "But I go alone."

"Why?" she asked.

Bruce smirked. "I get caught, they'll just toss me out. Nobody cares about me. But you? They see you coming, and they'll shut that whole thing down quicker than you can say rat. And then you'll never find out what they've been up to." He casually picked up a fry from his basket, drawling, "That, or they'll just kill you. Besides, I already know a way in."

* * *

After finishing up the meal, Bruce walked her outside, waved down a taxi, and told him to take her to Wayne Manor.

Selina rolled her eyes, saying, "Bruce, _relax_. I'll be fine." She hugged him, whispering, "And if you get yourself killed in there, I'll kill you."

Bruce smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, you should get home. Alfred's probably worried I abducted you, again."

She smiled and obliged. Bruce watched her go, a sick feeling developing in his stomach.

He got back to the apartment as fast as humanly possible. Jean was casually sitting on the couch, cleaning his knives.

"Where were you?" he asked as Bruce barged in the door.

Bruce ignored him. "You need to go to Wayne Manor, now. I sent Selina back there. She said that Strange is responsible for bringing Galavan and Freeze back, so I'm gonna go to Arkham again. Either way, one of us will probably intercept him."

He didn't say it, but it was more likely that Galavan would go to the Manor rather than Arkham. Unfortunately, Bruce knew Jean was in far better shape for a fight than he was, even if he'd never admit it.

Sterling held his hands up. "Okay, time out. What are you talking about? When did you see Selina?"

Bruce shook his head. "She came by and we talked, but you need to go _now_. If Galavan gets to her before you do, I'll kill you."

"Didn't you just say that you'd kill me if I went to Wayne Manor?" Jean asked.

"And now I'll kill you if you don't."

Jean shrugged. "Fair enough. But are you sure you should go to Arkham like…that?" he asked, gesturing to Bruce's leg.

Bruce scoffed. "Worry about yourself. Now go!"

Jean grabbed his hood and daggers, since his mask had been badly damaged and Galavan had stolen his sword in their last fight. He was about to run out of the room when Bruce stopped him.

"Jean…" he started.

"What?" he asked, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Protect her. Please."

Jean stared at him and slowly nodded. "I will."

Bruce clenched his jaw. He wanted nothing more than to go protect Selina himself, but Jean was better fit for the job. He gave her a better chance at survival. The revelation hurt, but it was true. "Go," he stated.

Jean nodded and left the apartment.

When he was gone, Bruce let himself collapse onto the couch. His leg felt like it was about to split in half. There was no way he'd get into Arkham in this state, especially not the way he was planning on doing it.

But he had to be strong. Selina needed him to be.

So, he gritted his teeth and shoved himself back onto his feet, hobbling over to the wall where loose boards stuck out. He ripped an old, wet, moldy board clean out of the wall, and then tore it in half with his bare hands.

He set the two planks parallel to his calf and went to work, wrapping a two strands of rope around the two planks and pulling it as tight as he could bear. It hurt like hell, and splinters were digging into his exposed skin, but the splint would be functional for what he needed to do. He pulled his pant leg over the device and stood from the couch again.

It was easier to stand than last time. He did his best to walk normally, going to his bedroom and pulling on his black army jacket. He reached for his pair of brass knuckles, but only found one. He'd thrown the other one at Galavan.

But only one would have to do for now.

Besides, he wasn't planning on fighting anyone. All he had to do was sneak into Arkham, find the supposed secret basement, get incriminating evidence on Strange, and then get back out without anyone noticing he was there in the first place.

Easy, right?

The difficult part would be staying on task. Jean could protect Selina. He _would_ protect her.

Now he needed to do his part.

It was time to end this.

* * *

Selina glanced over her shoulder for what seemed like fiftieth time in ten minutes. She'd been on edge all day, ever since she'd seen Galavan on the news. She hadn't slept that night, nor had she eaten the following morning. Then, after searching the city for almost the whole day, she'd finally found Bruce. All the tension that'd been building up for the past three days disappeared. She'd even managed to have a meal.

But now that he was gone and she was alone again, the tension returned with a vengeance.

You know that feeling you get when you know someone's watching you? Like something in you just doesn't sit right or the hair on your neck stands on end for seemingly no reason?

That was all she felt the whole drive back to the Manor. She knew someone was watching her, following her, but every time she looked no one was there.

She'd already slipped the cabbie an extra hundred dollars to drive much, much faster than what was legal. If someone was following them, matching their pace, it would've been obvious. But every time she got suspicious of a car, it turned off an exit, fell far behind, or sped up even faster and left them in the dust.

She took a deep breath. She was just getting herself worked up. There was no one following them. If they were, she would've spotted them by now. She was just nervous because Galavan was running around. Once she got home, she'd be fine.

Still, she slipped the driver another hundred dollars.

She couldn't get back to the Manor quickly enough.

By the time the car arrived, it was already sunset. She paid him the amount due, telling him to keep the change, and then sprinted across the lawn to the front door.

She threw the door open and pulled herself inside, closing it just as quickly and locking it behind her. She leaned up against the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

She was fine. Everything was fine. No one was following her. She was just being paranoid. The tension started to alleviate.

"Alfred?" she called into the house. No response. "Alfred!?" she called, a bit louder this time. She started towards the staircase, walking up to the second floor where the bedrooms and study were.

She looked down the hall, seeing warm, orange light spilling from the study into the corridor. The fireplace was lit.

She ran down the hall, hearing Alfred's voice. She paused by the slightly open door. Alfred was inside, speaking into the telephone.

He said into it, "Well, you having a laugh, ain't you? I thought he was after you." Alfred paused. "Right, well, I'll get the motor." He paused again, listening. "Uh, Collins and Delaney," he answered.

That was where Alfred had dropped her off this morning.

Alfred continued, "Last I saw of her, she was headed to see that Bruce Kyle, I reckon." He paused. "Right. Will do," he said in finality, hanging up the phone.

He lunged backwards, knife in hand, prepared to skewer whoever was now standing behind him.

Unfortunately, that person was…

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Miss Wayne," Alfred chided as he lowered the knife. "Creeping up on someone like that, I could've filleted you."

"I'm sorry," she told him with a small smirk. She noticed that he didn't seem relieved. In fact, he looked about ready to be sick. "What's wrong?" she asked, already knowing the answer but not wanting it to be true.

Alfred sighed. "Galavan, Miss Wayne. Theo bloody Galavan is what's wrong."

* * *

Bruce made his way to the southwest corner of the city, just across the river from Arkham Island. He scaled the fire escape of a laundry company, silently making his way around the building to where bags upon bags of inmate clothing were being loaded into baskets and trucks by workers.

When no one was looking, he hoisted himself over the railing of the fire escape, dropping into one of the baskets. His right leg hit first as he landed and a wave of pain shot up his side, but he refused to cry out. This was the easiest way into the Asylum, so he'd just have to deal with the discomfort. He pulled the clothes over him and waited. His basket was eventually moved onto the truck, one man in particular muttering about how heavy it was.

Luckily, they went about their business as normal, not bothering to check what was inside.

When the truck was fully loaded with laundry, it drove off across the bridge to Arkham Asylum.

The doors opened up again as K9 units were used to inspect the baskets. Bruce had already climbed out of his basket, crawling through the truck to the driver's seat. When the coast was clear, he slipped out the driver's door, making a mad dash for cover. His leg was on fire, but he steeled himself. His work had only just begun.

He approached the wall of the Asylum, taking hold of the exposed water pipes. From there, he began a fifty foot climb straight up the wall, using nothing but upper body strength and leverage from his left leg to scale five stories of flat surface.

Twice he had to slide back down several feet to avoid spot lights, the second of which he stopped his momentum with both legs. He wanted to scream in pain. The splint was no help when climbing. He took a deep breath, reminding himself why he was doing this. For _who_ he was doing this.

He finally reached the top, pulling himself over the edge and onto the roof. So far, he'd been undetected, but his job wasn't over yet. A spotlight rapidly approached where he was sitting, and he had to dive out of the way to cover, once again landing hard on his right leg.

He shouldn't have been walking, let alone running, climbing and jumping on that leg. He was probably only making it worse. But he told himself, at that point, it would take more effort to get down and get out than it would to keep going.

So, he clenched his teeth and made his way across the rooftop, pulling open a ventilation shaft, slipping inside, and pulling it closed behind him. He slid down the pipe, which eventually leveled out. He got on his hands and knees (which was a lot less painful that walking) and began to crawl through the pipes.

He froze, his ears perking up.

He'd seen several rats in the ventilation, all of which scurried away from him, but that didn't sound like a rat.

There was someone else in the ventilation with him.

He hid around a corner, peaking down the pipe as the other person passed by, unaware of his presence.

He was pretty sure that was Ed Nygma. Of course he would've figured this place out, too. Bruce ignored him crawling down the passage and turning the direction where Nygma had come from.

Bruce thought to himself, ' _This isn't going as horribly as it could_.'

His hand landed in rat shit.

' _Never mind_.'

* * *

Selina ran around the second floor of the house, locking all the doors, closing all the windows, and turning out all the lights.

Galavan was coming, and he was coming for Selina. But they were gonna give him a hell of a time finding her.

She was almost done, having cleared over three quarters of the house without a trace of Galavan.

Then, she found the broken window.

She turned and ran down the hallways, screaming his name. No answer. She grabbed a sword from a display as she passed.

Just as she rounded the corner, reaching the study, gunshots filled the air.

Selina watched, frozen, as Galavan dodged the bullets and knocked Alfred to the ground, tossing aside the pistol.

"Alfred!" Selina called, sliding the sword across the floor to where Alfred was laying.

Alfred grabbed it and held it up just in time, deflecting Galavan's own blade. "Run, Selina!" Alfred yelled, kicking Galavan in the knee and standing to his feet.

Selina didn't run. She knew she could help, but she had to get to Alfred's gun which now sat behind her father's desk. Alfred fought like a cornered animal, landing several blows to Galavan's head and body. Selina maneuvered around them, trying to get an angle where she could make a run for the gun.

Galavan got under Alfred's guard and drove him from the windows to the other side of the room.

Selina saw her opportunity and took it, avoiding a pair of swings from Galavan and sliding under the desk, fumbling around for the gun.

Alfred charged again, but Galavan was ready. He sliced at Alfred's leg and then threw him crashing through a window.

"Alfred!" Selina yelled, aiming the gun at Galavan and circling around the room so her back was to the exit. She was half tempted to shoot Galavan right then and there, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She'd pulled a trigger once, and she couldn't do it again.

Instead, she threw the gun at Galavan's head, hitting him square between the eyes. Galavan stood still for a moment in surprise. Then, he growled, "That's the second time today a child has thrown something at me. And it will be the last."

Selina ran like hell.

She rounded the corner and a firm hand grabbed her arm, pulling her to an immediate halt.

She let out a squeal of terror, but the person's other hand clamped down on her mouth, stopping her from vocally protesting further.

Jean-Paul Valley/Sterling St. Cloud was standing there.

She tried to scream again, but Jean told her, "Selina, I'm here to help. If you wanna live, you need to come with me." Selina kept struggling. "Bruce sent me," Jean stated.

She stopped trying to free herself, and he let go of her arm and mouth. She sized him up, trying to tell if he was telling the truth or not.

He didn't give her much time to consider the offer, saying, "We need to go, now," and taking off down the hallway.

Seeing no better option, Selina chased after him, eventually overtaking him and leading him through the house.

They ran into the garage and Jean asked, "Why did we come here?"

"I have a plan," Selina told him. "But you're the bait."

Less than thirty seconds later, the garage was silent. Another pair of footsteps rang through the room as Galavan entered. He removed his sword from his scabbard, carelessly swinging it around as he slowly walked into the room. Other than the light coming through the garage door's windows, the room was pitch black and filled with two dozen cars.

Galavan sighed in disappointment. "Don't hide, little one. Face me. Face death."

No response.

"You know the Waynes were a blight upon the city," Galavan started, slowly walking deeper into the garage as he checked between the cars. "A selfish, arrogant family. A family with no beliefs. No honor. No respect." He paused, but no one answered. "You are your father's only child, Selina. When I kill you, I eradicate the Wayne name forever…" He trailed off, spotting a pair of shoes hidden behind one of the cars. He smiled to himself, keeping his voice calm as he approached the car. "It will be as though you had never existed!" he yelled as he rounded the corner, sword held high and ready for the finishing blow.

He didn't find Selina Wayne.

Instead, Jean lunged out at him, putting his shoulder in Galavan's gut and knocking him to the ground.

Jean looked to his left, took a step backwards, and turned back to Galavan who was just regaining his footing.

"See ya, around, Theo," Jean drawled with a wave.

A car's engine roared to life and tires screeched on the pavement. Galavan had just enough time to look at what was coming before the car ran over him, driven by none other than Selina Wayne.

She slammed the car through the garage door, not stopping again until they were halfway across the lawn.

She looked around from the driver's seat, trying to find where Galavan had ended up. She couldn't see him in any of the rearview mirrors, and he wasn't on the hood…

She stepped out of the car and scanned the area.

Galavan was nowhere to be found.

She walked around to the front and checked under the car. He wasn't there either.

She stood back up and looked around again. He couldn't just vanish…could he?

Her hair stood on end. A cord wrapped around her throat, cutting off the air from her lungs. She clawed at it, but Galavan had the other end of the whip and held it tight.

He drew his sword and growled, "Enough fun and games. Prepare to die."

The whip suddenly went slack and Selina gasped for breath. A knife had severed the cord in half.

Jean appeared from out of nowhere, charging his uncle with a dagger in each hand. She hadn't noticed before, but Jean was wearing armor similar to Galavan's, minus the mask. She scrambled backwards as Galavan swung his sword at Jean, who deflected it with one dagger and sunk the other into Galavan's side. Galavan growled in defiance and threw Jean backwards, but Jean came up on his feet, drew another dagger, and charged again. This time, when Galavan swung, Jean dropped into a baseball slide and slid between his uncle's legs, coming up behind Galavan and sinking the knives into the back of Galavan's knees.

Galavan dropped to his knees, groaning in pain. His sword clattered to the ground.

Jean stood from the ground, casually bending over to pick up the sword and walking around to face Galavan. He had a wicked grin on his face.

Galavan let out a ragged breathe, asking, "Why would you do this, my child? I am the hand of Dumas…the angel of death. I am Azrael…"

Jean let out a dark chuckle and shook his head, raising the tip of the sword to Galavan's throat.

"No. I am."

He swung the sword, cleaving straight through Galavan's neck. His head rolled to the floor, his body keeling over and falling flat on the ground.

Selina simply watched on in horror.

Jean knelt next to the body, removing a ring from Galavan's finger and putting it on his own. "You died with honor and purpose," he whispered to the body, too quietly for Selina to hear. "He will be pleased. Now rest."

Jean stood from the body, reclaiming his sword and sliding it into his own empty scabbard.

Selina shook her head, croaking, "What…why…how are you here?"

Police sirens filled the air. Jean shook his head, telling her, "I don't have much time. Bruce sent me to protect you. He went to Arkham. I'm sorry that I can't explain more, but I have to go."

Selina opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. She simply nodded.

Jean turned, but didn't walk away. He turned back to her, shame in his eyes. "And Selina, I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you. I hope you can forgive me…one day."

And with that he turned and ran off into the woods, leaving Selina behind with Galavan's headless body. She stood there, bewildered by all that'd occurred in the last five minutes.

One thing in particular stuck out to her:

Since when were Bruce and Jean-Paul Valley working together?

* * *

Bruce dropped out of the ventilation shafts, directly into the small, purposeless room from earlier. He landed on his good leg, purposefully keeping his right off the ground until his momentum stopped. He stabilized and carefully set his other foot down. It felt like the injury in his leg was worse than before, but it was bearable. Besides, he was so close to his goal.

He limped over to the fake panel, flipping it down and getting to work on the lock. About halfway through, the alarm sounded. Most likely they'd found Ed missing, but that also meant Bruce wasn't getting out the way he'd gotten in. He'd just have to improvise when he got that far.

Finally, the lock clicked and the wall slid away, revealing a secret elevator.

"Okay…" he muttered, entering the elevator and closing the wall behind him. He pressed a lever and the cart jolted to a start, rapidly going downwards.

The elevator stopped and the door opened. He stood to the side, out of view from anyone in the hallway. The fence was pulled back and a man stepped inside. He was able to let out a "Hey!" of surprise before Bruce clocked him with his brass knuckles.

He laid the unconscious body to the side of the elevator and closed it, slipping down the hallway silently. He followed a pair of guards, eventually reaching another hallway. Three people started walking towards him, so he ducked into the nearest room, hiding under a desk directly next to a window.

"Give us a minute, please," one of the voices asked. Ice shot down Bruce's back. It was Strange speaking.

Another man grunted in affirmation and walked down the hall, Strange and the other person stopping next to the window to talk.

"I think we can safely say Azrael has gone rogue," Peabody stated.

"I'm not comfortable making that assumption just yet," Strange rebuffed.

"But it's been more than 24 hours since he's made contact."

"Perhaps that's because Jim Gordon still breathes."

"But if the police catch him first, how do we explain?" Peabody asked.

"Something that cannot be explained? We don't. Theo Galavan is no more. Azrael is his new creation. A killer. A madman. The GCPD will fail if they try to capture him. They'll have to kill him first and when they do, they'll be successfully covering our tracks for us. In the meantime, this facility needs to be shut down. All subjects moved to the new location."

"Already happening," Peabody told him.

"That's my girl."

They turned and walked off down the hallway.

Bruce stayed frozen in his hiding place, all his worst fears realized.

He waited until all the footsteps had disappeared before moving. He needed to get out. Now.

He crept down the hallways, reaching the corridor with the elevator. But he wasn't alone. A team of guards in riot gear were fighting with something at the threshold of a cell.

It was a giant of a man with bright yellow reptilian eyes and teeth that resembled more of an alligator's than a man.

They were making monsters down here, and he was trapped inside.

He crept back down the hallway that he'd came. In the distance, another door opened, and he ducked into a nearby room to avoid being spotted.

He didn't hear the door lock behind him.

The room in question was made entirely of metal, most of it painted black. There were three figures that looked like karate dummies, but they were heavily burned.

He turned a corner and found a man's body sizzling.

Across the room was a table full of metal parts and bottles of…gasoline.

"Are you my human subject?" a chillingly familiar voice asked from behind him.

Bruce whipped around. "What?" he asked.

"Were you sent here to test me?" the other person asked.

Bruce stared at him. The man in question was a bit taller, even skinnier than Bruce, and was wearing a full-body suit made of a weird, silvery cloth. And he was holding a flame thrower.

"Garfield?" Bruce asked in complete disbelief.

"Who's Garfield?" the man asked sharply.

"It's me, Bruce," he told him. "You burned yourself when the cops tried to bust you, remember?"

"I don't remember anything before this. Professor Strange told me I have amnesia."

"No, don't trust him," Bruce warned. "Your name is Garfield."

"He told me he'd sent people to test me," Gar told him, turning on his flamethrower.

"Well, I'm not here to test you. I'm here to take you home."

"That's what he said you'd say."

Bruce turned and tried to pry open the door, but it wouldn't budge. "Gar, stop!" he yelled.

"Don't call me that! My name is Firefly."

The flamethrower roared to life, sending waves of fire at Bruce. He dove out of the way, but didn't escape unscathed.

His right leg had been caught by the flames, and his splint was made of wood and rope…

He summoned all the strength in his body and leapt at Garfield, knocking the gun out of his hands and hitting him hard with the brass knuckles in his jaw. Gar's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Bruce kicked off his splint as quickly as possible, his right leg now burnt as well as torn.

This was not going well…

 **A/N: Like I said in the first post, I originally had this as a single mega-chapter called** _ **Azrael Unleashed**_ **, but decided against it when it came out as around 9.3 thousand words, two thousand more than any chapter I've ever written. But** **anyways, if you enjoyed or have any questions/comments/concerns about the story, make sure to Review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	31. A Legion of Horribles

**A/N: So, I'm not gonna lie: this week has sucked. I had no time to work on this, so I had to wait to start this chapter until Friday night. To put it into perspective, it usually takes me a whole week to write one of these chapters. But I'm gonna stop complaining because I love this story and knowing that I'd finally get a chance to write the chapter this weekend is what kept me sane through the work week. So anyways, here's Chapter 31. Hope you enjoy!**

 **A Legion of Horribles**

Selina slammed the telephone receiver down in frustration.

She'd called Bruce over a dozen times already. She'd called the Gym, the Flea, and even the GCPD to see if he was there. But to no avail.

Bruce Kyle had vanished.

Again.

The difference from before: this time she knew where he'd gone. It wasn't a comforting thought.

He'd gone into Arkham Asylum completely alone. He must have a plan…he wouldn't have just barged in there without one…

On second thought, that was exactly something he'd do.

That meant Bruce Kyle was inside Arkham Asylum, alone, without a plan, without backup, and surrounded by psychopathic killers.

And she'd sent him there.

She went to his apartment. There was nothing but weapons, some food rations, and a blueprint of a car with a hidden compartment in the back. For a moment, she considered contacting Jean. But then she remembered she had no idea how to do so. Instead, she was left with a butler who'd been nearly beaten to death by Galavan a few hours prior, and a Wayne Enterprises' scientist who'd never been in a fight in his life.

She needed help.

* * *

"Detective Gordon!" Selina yelled over the bustling noise in the GCPD precinct. Gordon was exiting the Captain's office, his expression grim. Selina walked up to him, quickly saying, "I was hoping you'd be here."

"Selina, you gotta stop calling me detective," he chided with a small smirk. The smirk disappeared quickly as he studied her features. "What is it?" he asked, sensing something was wrong.

"Bruce," she told him gravely, her heart dropping as she finally left herself realize the obvious truth. "Hugo Strange has Bruce."

They drove out to Wayne Manor where a very worried looking Alfred was waiting at the front door. Before she'd even gotten out of the car, he was already yelling.

"SELINA MARTHA WAYNE! WHAT IN THE BLOODY SEVEN HELLS WERE YOU THINKING!? NO NOTE! NO NOTHING! JUST AN EMPTY BED AND A CAR MISSING! DID YOU EVEN THINK FOR A MOMENT–"

"ALFRED!" Selina yelled over him.

He stalled, hearing the shrillness in her voice. He looked between Selina and Gordon, seeing the collective grim expressions on their faces. "What's wrong?" Alfred asked, ushering them inside and locking the door behind them. Lucius Fox was waiting inside, seeming surprised at Gordon's presence. Lucius and Alfred stared at them, waiting for an explanation.

Selina's gaze remained locked on the floor, her lips sealed.

Gordon answered for her: "Bruce Kyle is trapped in Arkham Asylum."

"I sent him there," Selina stated quietly.

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock.

Alfred stared at her. "How could you do this, Miss Wayne?" he asked. The disappointment in his voice stuck like an ice-cold knife in her chest. "I strictly forbid you from involving that boy, didn't I?"

"I know," she practically whispered. "But Bruce always handled himself. I was sure…"

"But you were wrong, weren't you? Well, it's different if _you choose_ to be involved in something like this, but you _actively_ involved Bruce Kyle. It doesn't matter about my personal opinion about that boy, but he has been a bloody good friend to you and he's been loyal. And you put your own concerns in front of that boy's safety." He took a deep breath. "I'm really disappointed in you, Miss Wayne."

Dead silence followed.

Selina was in the midst of a storm of emotions: guilt, disappointment, embarrassment, regret… All of this was her fault.

Gordon finally spoke up, asking, "You're sure he's still there?"

"Yes," Selina answered softly. "He wouldn't have missed our meeting otherwise. Strange must be holding him prisoner in Arkham."

"Only I doubt he's in Arkham," Fox interjected. "I wager Strange has him in the secret lab where he created Azrael."

"But Strange runs Arkham," Gordon objected. "He's seen there every day. The lab must be accessed through Arkham."

"You're thinking it's underground," Lucius concluded.

"It has to be. There must be stairs, an elevator, ventilation shafts. I just don't know how to find them," Gordon said.

Lucius thought for a moment and then said, "I may have a solution. The technology Strange is using to create these monsters must be very advanced. My guess is he's using plutonium isotopes to mutate cell structure. If so, there'll be trace radiation. At Wayne Enterprises, I developed a miniature Geiger counter for battlefield use. Get me into Arkham, and I'll find the entrance to that lab."

"The Wayne Foundation gives the asylum money every year," Selina pointed out. "I'll ask for a tour."

"From the man that ordered the assassination of your father?" Alfred asked pointedly.

Selina clenched her jaw and looked him dead in the eyes. She wasn't gonna back down, not right now. Not after putting Bruce in harm's way. But Alfred wouldn't accept an answer like 'But I have to help him' or 'I'm the only one who can'. To get him to listen, she had to appeal to reason.

"He'll wanna find out what we know," she said slowly and methodically. "And he won't see me and Lucius as a threat."

"No," Alfred stated. "Absolutely bloody not. You're not to walk straight into a lion's den. I can't even go to back you up with a leg like this, can I?" he asked, gesturing to his injured knee.

"Alfred, you said yourself that it's my fault what happened to Bruce. That means it's my responsibility to make it right."

Lucius nodded, saying, "And I may not be the man you choose as second in a street fight, but anything I can do to protect Selina, I will."

"Still, it's half a plan, isn't it? I mean, just say that Lucius can get you in there, and you find the entrance to the laboratory, then what?"

"They tell me," Jim interjected. "I call Bullock, he comes busting in with a hundred cops, keeps Strange busy. I find Selina."

"I see. And how exactly do you plan on getting in? I mean, these two, possibly, but you? I mean, Strange won't let you within a bloody mile of the place."

Selina grinned. "I can take care of that," she said, going through her jacket and removing the blueprint of the car. "If I can get you in, can you manage the rest of the way?"

Jim looked at the blueprint and nodded. "Yeah, I think I can."

* * *

"Mr. Fox is pulling up, up front," Alfred told her as he hobbled into the study. Selina was halfway through pulling on her overcoat, having changed into fancier clothes for her meeting with Professor Strange, although she'd still selected an outfit with pants rather than a skirt. "I've told Gordon if I don't hear from you within an hour, I'm gonna go straight to Bullock."

Selina nodded slowly, seeing the worry in his eyes. "I have to do this, Alfred," she told him. "I don't have a choice."

"Of course you got a choice," Alfred chided, reaching forwards to fix the collar of her coat. "In the same way I can choose to let you go with my blessing, and tell you to bring that boy home safe. Or I can take you right now, I can stick you on an airplane and fly you somewhere very far away."

"You can't," Selina objected.

"Don't be such a plonker. Of course I can. But I won't. You see for the past two years, Miss Wayne, all I've tried to do is protect you and keep you safe, thinking that's what your father wanted. But you're not the same little girl he left behind, are you? So, I have to ask myself, what would Thomas Wayne do if he were here? Your father took responsibility for his actions. He fought very hard for what he believed in. And I will not stop you from doing the same thing."

Selina stared at him. "You never talk about them," she stated. "Why?"

Alfred sighed, suddenly looking older and more tired than she'd ever seen. "Your father was the best man I ever met. Your mother was the same. All either of them ever wanted to do was help people. In fact, that's how I met your father. Selina, your father saved my life. He brought me here, to this place," he said, gesturing to the Manor, "to protect you. And I failed."

"But you _have_ protected me," Selina told him.

He shook his head. "No, I haven't. Because I can't. And with every passing day, it becomes more apparent that I don't need to. Selina, your father and mother were strong, but you are far, far stronger. But that's only because I failed to keep these bad things from happening to you. Galavan, those assassins, Wayne Enterprises, Malone, and now Hugo Strange…" He sighed and shook his head again. "And because I couldn't protect you, you learned how to protect yourself. It's the reason you went to that Kyle boy in the first place, why I let you go. Because I knew he'd make you stronger. And now he's in trouble, and he needs you to be strong for him. So…" he trailed off, a small, weary smile dancing at his lips. "Off you go."

Selina walked right up to him and wrapped her arms around his chest. He groaned in pain, but returned the hug, his small smile growing larger by the second.

"Thank you, Alfred," Selina told him, "for everything."

He nodded. "It's my pleasure, Miss Wayne." She let go and he re-straightened her coat's collar again. "Now, Gordon and Mr. Fox will be waiting for you."

Selina nodded and walked out of the study. All of this was her fault, but she could fix it.

Because, as bad as the situation was, she was stronger.

* * *

Selina and Fox stepped out of the bright red sports car at Arkham Asylum. A short, bald man with red circular glasses approached them. Selina's blood boiled.

"Hugo Strange, at your service," the man told them with a confident smile.

"Lucius Fox," Lucius greeted.

Strange nodded, shaking Lucius' hand. "Mr. Fox." He turned his attention to Selina. "And of course, you are…"

"Selina Wayne," she answered. She was almost the same height as the man, which she found quite comical. But that was the only comical thing about him. His eyes were cold and dark, seeming to go on into his head forever. When he smiled, his eyes didn't crinkle up, which Bruce had taught her meant the person was faking the smile. Everything about him screamed at Selina to not trust him.

Yet, her father had.

"I can't tell you what it means to finally meet you," Strange told her. "Your father was very dear to me. What happened to him and your mother was indeed a great tragedy. Please accept my condolences, belated as they may be," he said, putting out his hand for Selina to shake.

Selina stared back at him, her stomach churning with disgust at his words. That lying, backstabbing, traitorous son of a bitch…he'd killed them. She wanted nothing more than to reach into her coat sleeve, whip out her knife and gut him right then and there.

Instead, she put on a smile, making sure to crinkle up the corners of her eyes in case Strange was looking for that, too, and shook his hand. "Thank you," she told him, refusing to betray her true emotions. The second her resolve broke, the second she broke her act, she'd be damning Bruce.

"So, how can I be of help?" Strange asked. "It goes without saying that the work we do here would not be possible without the support of the Wayne Foundation."

"The asylum was a cause close to my parents' hearts," she told him, keeping her voice light. "As such, I believe it is my duty to see how their money is being spent."

"So, this is a bit of an inspection," Strange concluded.

"No, nothing so formal," Fox told him. "We were just hoping for a look around."

"We don't normally give tours," Strange said.

"Even to someone who provides a quarter of your operating budget?" Selina asked.

She saw Strange's eye twitch in agitation. However, he smiled again and told her, "Of course, we can make exceptions. I'd be happy to be your guide."

"Actually, I thought that you and I could talk, while Mr. Fox looks around," Selina said. "He's very discreet."

"I see. You've come armed with a plan." Selina smiled as pleasantly as she could manage. "I'm afraid we can't allow civilians to wander about," Strange told them, "but perhaps my assistant, Ms. Peabody, could accompany Mr. Fox. She's very discreet."

"That's fine," Fox answered, "I'll just get my coat." He walked off to the trunk of the car, removing an overcoat and leaving the trunk cracked open.

Meanwhile Strange said, "Ms. Wayne, if you will," gesturing for her to approach the building.

Strange led her inside, swiftly taking her through the maze of the building towards the business offices. She tried to map the layout of the Asylum, but everything looked the same. Eventually, she had no idea where she was in correlation to the entrance. She was on Strange's turf now.

They eventually reached Strange's office, Strange taking the chair behind his desk and Selina taking one of the chairs across from him.

He showed her a map of the facilities, allowing her to figure out where she was in the building. Then Strange went over a bunch of boring logistical talk that went right over her head. Finally, he turned to the television and flipped around through the Asylum's security cameras.

When she was satisfied, Strange flipped off the televisions and asked, "Selina, as much as I value the opportunity to finally meet you, perhaps we could address the _real_ reason for your visit."

Selina furrowed her brow, saying, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Strange smiled. "Well, you see, the other day, James Gordon came to see me. He asked about a project that your father and I worked on a decade ago. I was led to believe that he was working on your behalf. Is that not why you're here?"

"After he left the GCPD, I retained Mr. Gordon to look into my parent's deaths," Selina told him, sighing as if her big lie had come out. "He's been pursuing various leads, and he doesn't share everything with me. If he overstepped or caused some offense, you have my apologies."

Professor Strange smiled coldly as he poured himself and her two cups of tea. "Thank you. And I can understand how you want answers. How difficult it must be to accept that something so horrific as the murder of one's own parents could be a random and meaningless act. So, you want a reason. Someone to blame."

Selina nodded, taking a sip of the beverage. "In their case, I think there was someone to blame."

"Oh, so do I," Strange agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment as Strange put a pair of sugar cubes into his tea. Finally, he looked up at her and said, "You remind me of him. Thomas. Not in appearance, of course, but you have that same look in your eyes."

"What look is that?" Selina asked.

"Certainty," Strange stated. "As a scientist, that's a luxury that I cannot afford. No, in science, there must always be some doubt, but not with Thomas. No. Thomas believed in things."

"I think what you're referring to is moral principles."

"Yes," Strange agreed. "Sadly, science and moral absolutes do not make easy bedfellows. Oh the arguments we used to have. I could never make him listen."

"I'm glad to hear that," Selina stated.

"Are you?" Strange challenged. "Haven't you ever imagined the life that might have been if your father hadn't been so certain? If he had listened?"

"Then he wouldn't have been the man he was."

The professor smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up for the first time. "True. But he wouldn't be dead, either. Along with your mother."

Selina's blood ran cold. For a moment, she'd allowed herself to suspect that it hadn't been Strange who'd killed them, that he'd merely been the fall man for some larger scheme, that he'd been an unsuspecting cog in the wheel of a much larger machine. She could relate to that, sympathize even. But, no. He knew something that she didn't about their deaths.

Selina didn't interrupt, so Strange continued, "Are those ideals that your father cherished so worth it? Wouldn't you gladly trade everything you believe for one more day, one more hour with your parents alive?"

In that moment, it took everything in Selina to not flip the table and slice his stomach open.

Instead, she resigned herself to standing from her seat, her hand unconsciously drifting towards her sleeve. "So you admit it then? You admit what you did?" she accused.

Strange stared her down, standing from his chair so they were at eye-level. "Here's what I admit, Selina," he said in a grim tone. "That I was your father's friend. That I pleaded with him, as I plead with you now. _Turn back_. Surely you have those that you care about. For their sake," he started, his eyes flicking down at the floor, "as well as your own, make the choice your father did not. You have been searching for the man who killed your parents. But the answer has always been right in front of you." He circled around the desk, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Selina, your father orphaned you. His actions fired the bullet that killed him and your mother. He knew what he was doing, and he did it anyway. I'm _begging_ you not to follow his path."

Selina stared daggers at the man, shrugging his hand off her shoulder and tightening her grip on her knife. "You want to know if I wish my parents were alive?" she asked quietly. "Of course. Would I give anything to have them back? Yes. But my father fought and died for the people he cared about. And if necessary, so will I."

Strange looked at her with such an incredible sadness. The first real emotion she'd seen him display since she'd first met him. True regret filled his eyes.

The hypocrite…

He sighed and slowly walked back round his desk, pushing a button on the PA system and saying, "Take them."

Selina snapped. She leapt across the table, kicking Strange into the wall behind his desk. She whipped out her knife and pressed the tip to his throat.

"Where is Bruce Kyle?" she hissed.

"It seems you are your father's daughter," Strange told her, the complete lack of fear in his eyes fueling Selina's growing hatred for the man. "I want you to know how greatly I respect that."

Suddenly, two pairs of hands grabbed her arms, pulling her away from the professor. She dropped the knife as she struggled against the men dragging her from the room. "Where's Bruce Kyle!? What have you done with him!?" she roared as the doors to Strange's office slammed shut.

She felt a prick in her neck. She fought against the drowsiness overtaking her, but it was no use.

Everything went black.

* * *

When she woke up, she was alone in a cold, damp room. There were windows made of one-way glass towards the top of the room, probably for doctors to safely observe patients locked inside. The only feasible exit from the room was a single door off to the side.

She sat up, gently touching the spot where she'd been drugged.

She huffed. "Motherf–"

The door suddenly opened and she shot to her feet. In a matter of seconds, the door had opened, Mr. Fox had been shoved inside, and the door slammed shut again.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed.

"Selina, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Where's Gordon?"

"I haven't seen him," Fox stated.

She groaned in frustration. "Strange you piece of shit!" she yelled up into the chamber. "We're not done here!"

No response.

She sighed, turned to her companion. "I'm sorry I got you into this, Lucius," she told him. "It seems likely we're all going to die in here."

"Don't say that," he chided.

She shook her head, explaining, "I don't mind dying. I mind that I got you and Jim Gordon and…Bruce involved."

"Selina," Lucius started, "you are a remarkable young lady, but you didn't force any of us to do anything. We chose."

Selina clenched her jaw, turning away from Lucius. "Hugo Strange said that all this time I've been searching for the man who killed my parents, when really…it was my own father. That he knew what he was doing." She paused and chuckled bitterly. "That I am my father's daughter."

"Selina, your father had the courage to fight for what he believed in," Lucius told her. "And as long as there is life, there is hope."

A PA speaker rang above them as a familiar voice lulled, "Touching sentiment."

"Who are you? Where's Jim Gordon?" Fox demanded.

"Hmm, yeah… I would urge you to worry about yourselves right now. Jim Gordon has his own problems," the voice said, breaking out into a sinister laughter. "So, here's the situation: Professor Strange has tasked me with finding out how much you two know about what he's been up to. And more importantly, who you told."

"Show us Jim Gordon and Bruce Kyle," Selina demanded.

"I think you're not grasping the power dynamic here, sweetheart," the man stated. "As I was saying, we need to know what you know. And you're gonna tell me. Or poison gas will spew from the nozzles above your head and you will both die very, very painfully."

They both looked up and, sure enough, there was a ring of pipes above them with nozzles dotted about it.

"I know this voice," Fox told her. "He worked for the GCPD. He had a funny kind of name."

"There's nothing funny about my name," the voice said.

"He was the one that framed Jim Gordon," Fox said.

The voice on the speakers sighed. "You always were a smart cookie, Foxy. Do you know why Strange gave me this job? It's because he knows that I would kill you both and not bat an eye. So, keeping that in mind, five minutes on the clock. Starting…now." He stopped talking for enough time to cackle about their misfortune before saying, "Okay, quiz kids. Who's ready to play, 'Life or Death'?"

"Sir, Mr. Nygma. You are Nygma, aren't you?" Fox asked. "This is absurd. The police know we're here, you can't kill us–"

"Are you ready to play!?" Nygma demanded.

Fox sighed and held up his hands in exasperation. Selina sighed. "Yes."

"Good," Nygma lulled. "You have one guess, five minute to talk it over. Who runs Indian Hill?" Selina and Fox looked at each other. "Who runs Indian Hill?" Nygma repeated. "You have one guess. Think carefully. Answer correctly, or die."

Selina paced around the room, her mind going a mile a minute. Who runs Indian Hill? Well, it was obvious. It was Hugo Strange. But no…she knew that it was really the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors ran it. Was that the answer he was looking for?

"You have sixty seconds left," Nygma told them. "Who runs Indian Hill?"

Fox sighed. "I say, Hugo Strange."

Selina shook her head. "Wayne Enterprises. Wayne Enterprises runs Indian Hill."

"That's surmise."

"Why would he ask that question if the answer was obvious?" Selina asked. "He wants to know what we know."

"What we think we know," Fox warned.

"Which is Wayne Enterprises," she insisted.

"Is that your final answer?" Nygma asked. "Running out of time here."

"Yes," Selina stated.

There was a moment of silence in the room, during which Selina feared she'd jumped the gun.

Then, Nygma said, "Correct! Wayne Enterprises runs Indian Hill." A fanfare started playing over the speakers, which Selina found to be quite mocking given the situation. "Bravo, girly. You're almost safe. Just one more question. You ready?"

"Yes," Lucius said angrily.

"You have five minutes, quiz kids. Answer correctly or die. Wayne Enterprises runs Indian Hill, but who runs Wayne Enterprises?"

Selina and Lucius paced around the room. Who ran Wayne Enterprises? Duh, the Board of Directors. But that was far, far too easy an answer than what Nygma was probably looking for.

Before she knew it, Nygma announced, "You have thirty seconds left. Who runs Wayne Enterprises?"

Lucius shook his head in frustration, stammering, "The Devil, maybe. Is that the deal? Communists? Witches?"

"No, there's some trick behind his question," Selina told him. "Some big secret."

"I've worked for Wayne Enterprises for 10 years. There is no big secret. The board of directors runs Wayne Enterprises," Lucius said.

"Fifteen seconds…"

"That can't be the answer, Lucius!" she insisted. Lucius just shook his head.

"Ten seconds…"

"Give us more time!" she yelled at the window.

"Five seconds!"

"The board of directors," Lucius stated.

There was a pause in which the only sound was Selina's racing pulse in her ears.

"Incorrect."

Her heart sank.

"Oh, what a shame," Nygma lulled. "The correct answer is…" he made a hissing sound through the microphone. Selina shot a bird at him. "Sorry. You lose. And what happens to losers? Yowza!" An alarm went off in the room. "Death by poison gas!" he exclaimed, laughing hysterically as a green fog began to fill the room from the pipes above their heads.

Selina and Lucius simply stared at the vents. Selina shook her head. It couldn't end here. Not after she'd gotten this far. But there was no way out of this one. She was going to die here, along with Lucius. Gordon was probably already dead, or wishing he could be. She tried not to breathe the gas in, but eventually gave up. It hurt like hell. She felt like her lungs were on fire. The corners of her vision went black. She started to panic. She didn't want to die, not yet, not like this. She wasn't like her father. All that stuff about being okay with dying had been a front. She was terrified. She hadn't come to this place to stop Hugo Strange or whoever ran Wayne Enterprises, she just wanted Bruce back.

Bruce…

He'd been in that place for nearly a whole day. Was he even still alive? What if they turned him into one of those monsters like Galavan or Freeze? How could she have put him in harm's way _again_? He didn't deserve to die. He was too good for the situation he was raised in. If she'd grown up the way he did…

You know the phrase, 'My whole life flashed before my eyes'? That shit's real. She started remembering bits and pieces from her fifteen years on the planet. When she was five and her father found her climbing in a tree and she'd jumped down and landed gracefully on her feet next to him, earning the nickname 'Cat'. When she was eight and she skinned her knee so her mother sang to her while her dad fixed it up. When she was eleven and her father had taken her hunting and she'd gotten lost, and when he found her he wrapped her up in his arms and carried her back to the camp. When she met Bruce for the first time. When she danced with Bruce for the first time. When she jumped across a roof with Bruce for the first time. When she stole something with Bruce the first time. When she hugged Bruce for the first time. When…when she kissed Bruce for the first time.

Oh how she wished she could go back to that moment, to tell a younger version of herself to get her priorities straight. Bruce Kyle was the best thing that ever happened to her. He changed her life. He'd _saved_ her life. And now, that life was over. What a shitty way for her to return the favor.

Lucius keeled over in front of her, collapsing gracelessly to the hard, cold floor.

She wasn't strong enough. All that talk about her being stronger than her parents, it was just talk. She was still that weak little girl who'd watched her parents get shot.

A tear traced down her cheek as her knees started to shake. She was so tired…so weary… She'd been fighting for so long…she wanted to rest. Her legs gave out and she sank to her knees.

No. There had to be a way out. Someone would come to save her. _He_ would come to save her.

"Bruce…" she choked out, feeling more and more like that little girl in the alleyway again. Helpless.

No one was coming.

She fell over, her vision going darker and darker by the second. Her lungs had stopped burning. Or maybe she just couldn't feel it anymore.

Either way, she wouldn't let her last thought in this world be of something stupid like why she wasn't in pain.

Instead, she focused on one memory. Her best memory. It wasn't a real one, but she'd dreamt of it so many times that it felt real.

It was a simple image. A few feet away from her was a picnic blanket strewn out on a hill overlooking the city. On the blanket sat her parents and Bruce, happily chatting away. She watched from afar, her father and mother politely chuckling at one of Bruce's rare attempts at a joke. Suddenly, they all turned to face her. They were beaming, her parents' eyes filled with pride. Bruce patted the spot next to him, his smile the largest of all. He was wearing a tank-top, showing his arms and back that were somehow completely free of scars. It was perfect.

Selina smiled.

Everything went black.


	32. Transference

**A/N: And so begins the final chapter of Season 2. This is by far my favorite season of the show, so getting to do so many chapters on it (nearly double Season 1) has been an absolute joy of mine. However, all good things must come to an end, so here's Chapter 32. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Transference**

She was being drowned.

Her eyes were closed but she knew the surface was right above her, only a few feet away. There was no sound except the pounding of her heart in her eardrums. Her lungs were revolting against her, demanding breathe, but she couldn't move.

A new noise greeted her in the water, a pair of gunshots, beads bouncing on the ground. A child screamed, a sound familiar yet foreign to her ears.

Then, she was running across a rooftop, a small figure standing on the other side of the gap. It was a young girl with curly chestnut hair and green eyes, dressed in all leather. As Selina ran towards her, the gap became wider and wider. There was no way she could make it across, but she leapt anyways.

She was falling…no…flying. Yet, she knew she'd come up short.

At the last second, the figure morphed into a different, yet familiar, form. He reached out to catch her.

Selina's eyes fluttered open.

She wasn't drowning. She wasn't in the alley. She wasn't jumping across a rooftop.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim lights, she scanned the new room. It was small and cold, the floor and walls made of concrete. Medical instruments and supplies decorating the few tables scattered about the room. There was a single iron door leading out of the space.

If this was hell, she wasn't impressed.

Lucius groaned behind her, slowly sitting up.

"Jim?" Lucius asked.

Selina turned around and, sure enough, there sat Jim Gordon. He was strapped to a chair in the corner of the room. He looked like hell, but at least he was alive.

"Hi," Jim muttered.

"Hi," Selina repeated.

They sat in silence for a moment before Lucius asked the million-dollar-question: "Are we alive?"

"So far, so good," Jim responded in a flat tone.

"Had to be sure," Lucius told him. "I thought we were dead." He slowly climbed to his feet and assisted Selina up onto hers. "Wow…that was unpleasant. How are things going for you?" he asked Gordon. "We've had a hell of a time."

"Same," Jim muttered.

"You okay?" Lucius asked.

Gordon shrugged. "A little groggy. He drugged me. Made me talk."

"About Wayne Enterprises, right?" Selina asked as she and Fox began to try to undo his restraints.

"About everything. Selina…" he started, waiting for her to look him in the eye before continuing, "I never should have made that oath to you."

She blinked twice. "That's not really–"

"I was arrogant and naïve," Jim continued, "and I'm sorry. I tried to do the right thing, but… What a fool I've been."

Selina smirked, working at the shackle on Jim's left wrist. "Yeah? Well that makes two of us."

Fox stared at them. "What kind of drugs did they give you?"

Selina rolled her eyes, continuing to work at Jim's bonds. They weren't budging. She reached for her knife, but found nothing. "Shit…"

"Language," Jim chided.

"For real," another voice chimed in.

Selina's eyes shot towards the door. Her heart stopped.

Bruce Kyle was standing at the threshold of the room, a pair of guards flanking him. She would've been relieved, but then she saw the physical state he was in. His eyes were darker and sunken, his clothes torn and dirty, his hands and face had several new cuts decorating them, and his leg…

Bruce kept his voice as calm as possible, casually asking, "How you doing?"

"Meddling. What's your deal?" she asked, her voice quivering at the end.

He shrugged. "Chillin'."

She stared at him, trying to remain calm.

It didn't work.

She rushed forward, slamming into him at full speed. Even in the state he was in, he somehow managed to catch her, holding her tight as she squeezed her arms around his neck. She felt like yelling for joy and crying at the same time, settling for burying her face in his shoulder.

"Hey, Cat," he murmured, his voice even lower his usual growl. But there was no edge to it like there normally was. Instead, all she heard was weariness.

She pulled back, running her hands all over his face and torso. "Bruce…what happened…what did they do to you?" she stammered.

He cracked a small smile, taking one of her hands and holding still against his cheek. "Long story. Convinced a pyromaniac I know that I'm his man-servant. The usual. But are you okay?"

She shook her head in disbelief. She scanned him up and down. Somehow, he'd managed to make himself look even paler than normal. When had he last eaten? And his right leg… "What happened to that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Galavan stabbed me, then my friend burned my splint, then I burned it shut and wrapped it with my pant leg."

"When did Galavan stab you?"

He smiled sheepishly. "A couple hours before you found me."

She glared at him. "You mean to tell me that you had that the whole time I was with you and you never once mentioned it, even after I asked you to break into this place?"

He shook his head. "It must've slipped my mind."

She rolled her eyes and led him over to the other chair, undoing the makeshift wrap of his right pant leg. As the cloth fell away, she cringed. The wound was bad, the cut itself stretching several inches up his calf. Cauterizing it must've been absolute hell. "How were you walking just now?" she asked as she began to wrap the wound in clean gauze.

He shrugged, cringing when she pulled the wrap too tight. "I just thought about other stuff, kept my mind off it."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like what I'm gonna do to Strange when I get my hands on him. He turned my friend into a monster. He's gonna pay."

She shook her head. "So, let me get this straight: In the past forty-eight hours, you've worked with a trained assassin who was sent to kill me, and a guy who's obsessed with fire who also happened to be your friend from the Narrows?"

He shrugged again, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "I'm improvising."

She smiled, finishing off the bandage and helping him to his feet. He stood up a little too quickly, his right leg partially giving out. He threw an arm over her shoulders for support.

He murmured into her ear, "They're gonna blow this dump sky-high, and the whole circus is moving upstate."

"When?" she whispered back.

"Soon. An hour at best," he said, standing up straight.

"Can you escape?" she asked.

"Of course. Firefly thinks I'm his sidekick, so I got trustee status."

"Then please do so. Get out of here and call the police."

He nodded. "Yeah, sure, but not without you."

Selina shook her head. "I led you into this mess, I was self-righteous and arrogant and manipulative. I used you and I'm sorry."

Bruce blinked loudly several times. "Selina, you didn't make me do anything. I chose to come here, I got caught, and I'll find a way out of here, for all of us."

She sighed. "Do you at least have a plan?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "My plans never seem to work, so there's really no point."

"So, what're you gonna do?" she asked.

"Improvise."

"Time's up!" one of the guards called.

Bruce nodded. "Stay here," he told Selina with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Very funny."

He smiled and limped off, the cell door slamming shut behind him.

"What'd he say?" Gordon asked, still strapped to his seat on the other side of the room.

"He'll find us a way out…and there's a bomb."

* * *

Bruce was halfway back to Garfield's cell when the alarms started going off. His guards took him by the arms and lead him upstairs through the elevator, throwing him into the inmate's recreational room. Mr. Freeze and Garfield were already there, staring icily at each other.

Bruce looked between them, noting the already high tension in the room.

He had an idea.

Fifteen seconds of tense silence later, Professor Strange himself came running into the room. He ordered to Freeze and Firefly, "Kill the captives. We have to go."

"Whoa, whoa," Bruce drawled. "Where are we going? What's the hurry?"

"Silence!" Strange barked. "Freeze, get it done."

"Jeez. Relax," Bruce told him, turning to Gar. "What's with him?"

"Quiet!" Freeze ordered.

"Quiet yourself," Bruce retorted. "Why do you have to kill them?"

"I knew I shouldn't have spared you," Strange growled. "Freeze. Kill him."

Garfield did exactly what Bruce expected him to do, stepping in between Freeze and Bruce and raising a protest.

"I'm sorry, Firefly," Strange told him. "I told you he was an experiment."

"But he's my friend," Garfield argued, "I need him."

Strange groaned in frustration. "We don't have time for this!"

"Please don't let him hurt me, Firefly," Bruce begged. "Please help me."

Freeze slowly began to raise his ice-gun.

"Don't you dare," Garfield warned.

Freeze pulled his goggles over his eyes, ordering, "Out of the way, Sparky."

Garfield raised his flamethrower. "Make me."

"Firefly…no!" Strange yelled, but it was too late.

Bruce dove out of the way as a battle of ice and fire roared to life. He scrambled to his feet and ran off down the hallway, taking the elevator back down to Indian Hill. He ran through the lab, retracing his steps until he found Gordon's cell.

His leg was on fire, but the cauterization in addition to the new wrap made the pain bearable. He threw the cell door open, leaning up against the doorframe to rest his leg.

Lucius, Selina, and Gordon, who was now freed from his bonds, all looked up at him in surprise.

"What's going on?" Selina asked, the first of the three to step towards him.

Bruce shrugged. "Simple psychology. Been waiting for the right moment. Now come on, we have to go, now."

Bruce led them through the lab and back to the elevator, climbing up to the Asylum. They ran through the hallways to the rec-room. Going through it was the only way Bruce knew how to get out of the Asylum.

Besides, he and Strange had some unfinished business.

When they found the room, the battle was still going strong, a low fog beginning to fill the air as a result of the ice and fire mixing. Strange was hunkered down below a table on the other side, watching the fight unfold.

The alarms began to blare louder and, over the PA systems, a robotic voice announced, "Fifteen minutes to detonation."

For a moment, both of the fighters stopped, listening to the words of warning.

Strange saw his opportunity to escape, running between the opponents as he made a mad scramble for the exit.

He'd soon regret that decision, as both fighters snapped out of their dazes and went right back at it, catching the professor in the crossfire.

After a few seconds of pained groaned and cries for help, a half-melted, half-frozen body collapsed to the floor. Firefly and Freeze lowered their weapons and stopped to stare at the monstrosity of a man.

"Strange!" Jim yelled, standing from their hiding spot and running over to the body. He crouched over him, saying, "Come on, wake up Strange. Strange. Strange!" He sighed. "Oh screw it," he muttered, proceeding to slap Strange across the face. Then again. And then again.

On some level, the sight made Selina's day.

Strange finally grunted awake as Jim landed his fifth slap.

His eyes fluttered open and, although he'd been barbequed and flash-frozen only seconds earlier, he lulled in a snooty, arrogant voice, "Oh, Gordon. I surmise my plan must have gone awry."

"You could say," Jim growled. "I'm gonna stand you up now, and you're gonna give us a tour of your secret lab."

Strange's smug attitude disappeared real quick, desperately objecting to the prospect.

"You don't have a choice," Jim warned, lifting the man to his feet. "It's this way, right?" he asked, nodding to where they'd just come from.

"Jim, we can't go down there," Strange pleaded. "I set a bomb, the lab is going to blow up. We have to get out of here! In ten minutes, everything within a quarter-mile radius will be dust."

"That's madness," Jim muttered.

"If you want to live, which _I do_ , frankly, we had better leave."

"We detected radioactive material down there," Lucius interjected. "You got it out first, right?"

"There wasn't enough time. They forced my hand. But I calculated the chances of a radioactive cloud as fairly low," Strange told them.

"If you're wrong, thousands of people could die," Lucius countered.

"Yes. But paying that price will be better. Releasing what's down there…" Strange visibly shuddered.

"How do we shut it down?" Jim asked.

"The security walls are up, the lab is sealed."

"There must be some way in," Jim stated.

"We have to go! We have to leave now!"

Jim grabbed the man's neck, growling, "You tell me how to get that bomb and shut it off, or I'll batter you to death right here!"

Bruce instinctively stepped forwards, placing himself in between the Gordon and Selina. He'd never seen Gordon get like this, and it scared him. But, then again, if he were in Jim's shoes, he'd probably threaten to do even worse things than simply beat Strange to death.

Yet, Strange didn't seem fazed by the prospect, saying to Gordon, "In which case, young man, I suppose I will just have to die."

"The bomb must use some other kind of radioactive material," Lucius interjected. "I can set the Geiger counter to look for it."

Jim growled in frustration, but let go of Strange with one last parting glare. He turned to Lucius, saying, "Okay. Let's go." He turned to Bruce and Selina, saying, "You two, you've got nine minutes. Get as far away from here as you can."

"No–" Selina started to protest, but Bruce was having none of it. He latched onto her wrist, as he often did when they were running for their lives, and bolted down the hallway, dragging her along with him.

He'd managed to get his hands on a blueprint of the building while working as Firefly's lackey and he knew the fastest way to get out was to go through Cellblock F. The only problem with that: Cellblock F was where the worst of the worst of Arkham were kept under lock and key. Penguin, Barbara Keen, Ed Nygma, and even the late Jerome Valeska had spent time in the notorious block.

But, as long as the cages stayed shut, they'd be fine.

They were halfway to the entrance when the PA system announced, "Security systems deactivated."

Gordon probably had to disable it to get back down into Indian Hill, opening all the doors in Arkham.

As in every door.

Which included the cell doors.

Bruce picked up his pace, hoping the prisoners would be insane and/or dumb enough to not realize their doors were all unlocked.

Yeah…that didn't happen.

Half the doors immediately flew open as insane-looking men and women filled the small hallway. Bruce and Selina came to a screeching halt. The other half of the doors slowly opened as more and more crazy people flooded the space.

Bruce hoped that in the chaos of the situation no one would notice two kids running through the hallways with them.

He really needed to stop hoping for things.

Every pair of eyes turned on the two of them. There were two dozen crazy people in the hallway, yet you could've heard a pen drop.

Bruce reached for his brass knuckles.

Then, everything went to hell.

The first two guys were easy enough to take down. Bruce kicked one in the knee, probably knocking it out of socket, then jumped on the second one and threw him into the crowd behind him. The second wave came, two more guys and an older lady whose fingernails were the probably length of her arms. This time, Bruce split the gap between the two men, ducking as they went to hit him, thereby making them punch each other. Then, when they collapsed, he turned his attention on the lady. And for an old hag, she was pretty damn fast, wrapping her disgusting, gnarled hands around his neck and squeezing down with surprising force. Selina came to the rescue, kicking her hard in the face.

"Thanks," Bruce wheezed. "But why didn't you…" He looked down at her hands. They were empty. "Where's my knife?"

She scrunched up her brow in confusion. "What knife?"

Bruce dodged a clothesline from a bigger dude, punching him hard in the nose. "The knife I gave to you."

Selina hit two guys in the crotch with a single kick. "You mean _my_ knife?"

Bruce slammed a cell door into a man's face. "I let you borrow it, it's still my knife."

Selina dropkicked a woman in the chest, knocking her back into her cell before slamming the cage shut. "And you never asked for it back so it's my knife."

Bruce fought off three guys, kneeing one in the stomach, elbowing another in the face, and judo flipping the third, breaking his arm for good measure. "Whatever, where is it?"

Selina kicked a guy's legs out from under him and then kneed him in the face. "Strange took it."

Bruce snapped a man's wrist in half. "You lost my knife?"

Selina threw a guy head-first into the wall, and then kicked another man in the stomach. "You mean _my_ knife?"

Bruce punched out another two crazies. " _I'm_ the one who stole it, therefore it's _my_ knife."

Selina rushed another two guys, throwing them both against the wall before kneeing them both in their jaws. "Can we talk about this later?!"

One last man stood in their way, easily the largest of the group. They weren't getting around him, and they sure as hell weren't going through him.

"You go over, I'll go under," Bruce told her, already moving before she had a chance to respond. She followed closely behind, jumping as Bruce slid between the monster's legs. She used the back of his head as a launching pad, flying over him to the other side.

They looked up for the next attacker, but found no one.

They turned around and saw the hallway littered with bodies, all either groaning in pain or knocked out cold.

Bruce sighed. "I liked that knife."

He would've admired their handiwork if the voice on the PA systems hadn't announced, "Sixty seconds to detonation."

They ran like two bats out of hell, Bruce leading them through the maze-like hallways of the Asylum.

"Fifty seconds to detonation."

They were so close.

"Forty seconds to detonation."

He could see the exit now.

"Thirty seconds to detonation."

The doors were only a few dozen feet away.

"Twenty seconds to detonation."

They slammed through the exit doors and kept on running.

"Ten seconds to detonation."

Time slowed down as Bruce's mind went into overdrive. They couldn't make it clear in time. There was no way they were covering half a mile in ten seconds. It was impossible. But there had to be a way out of this. An abandoned car wouldn't do them any good as shelter. Nor would another part of the building. If they got caught on the bridge, it'd probably collapse and they'd be crushed by the rubble.

The bridge…bridges ran over rivers…

Bruce changed their trajectory from the bridge to the river running underneath it.

Five…

He dragged Selina into the water with him.

Four…

They broke through the surface of the river.

Three…

They frantically swam downwards.

Two…

Bruce shoved Selina down underneath him.

One…

He shielded Selina's body under his own, keeping his eyes squeezed shut as he prepared for a wave of heat to scorch his back.

Would it kill him? Possibly. Hopefully the water would nullify some of the flames.

But more importantly than that, he hoped the water in addition to his body mass would be enough to protect Selina from the blast.

He didn't want to die, but if he had to go…at least he could save someone else while doing it.

He sighed, proud that he'd chosen to save some else's life before his own, proud that, when all the chips were down, he was who he desired to be.

…

A thought dawned on him: even if time had slowed down, he'd been thinking for a while…

How long had he been down there?

His eyes were closed but he knew the surface was right above him, only a few feet away. There was no sound except the pounding of his heart in his eardrums. His lungs were revolting against him, demanding breathe, but he couldn't move.

A new noise greeted him in the water. It was vague and muffled, but he could just barely make it out.

People were cheering.

He paused, and then counted in his head, 'One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi…'

He swam up to the surface of the water, Selina right next to him. They broke through, both gasping for air.

People were indeed cheering. The police officers on the bridge were rejoicing.

The bomb hadn't gone off.

They stared at each other.

"It didn't…" he started.

"We didn't…" she agreed.

They stared at each other for a moment longer before she laughed out loud in relief.

It was the best sound he'd ever heard. In a single moment, he knew that nothing else in the whole world could ever top that.

Then, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his face down to hers.

She kissed him.

And as much as he loved her laugh, nothing would ever compare to that.

* * *

What happened after was a total blur.

At some point, the officers fished them out of the river. They were brought over to an ambulance and checked for injuries as they warmed themselves in a towel. Just one though. Selina had declined the second one, choosing to share Bruce's. They were asked to give statements, of which Selina handled for the both of them. Gordon and Lucius eventually emerged from the Asylum, explaining that they'd just used water. Selina said that they'd done the same, tightening her hold on his hand. When they'd started holding hands, Bruce had no idea.

They sat on the hood of Gordon's car for a while.

Then, Alfred pulled up to the Asylum. Selina finally let go of his hand (although he hadn't been complaining) and met him halfway, hugging her butler tightly.

He scanned over her, asking if she was alright and insisting that this was entirely her fault before finally asking, "Why are you wet?"

She smiled, throwing a sideways glance at Bruce and saying, "It's a long story."

Alfred shook his head. "I don't even want to know." He sighed and limped over to where Bruce was sitting. "Mr. Kyle," he greeted with a curt nod.

"Mr. Pennyworth," Bruce responded in the same manner and tone as the butler.

Alfred stared at him, clearly working through some inner turmoil. Finally, his eyes seemed to relent, and he stuck out his hand. "Thank you," he stated as quietly as humanly possible.

Bruce nodded and shook his hand. "You're welcome," he said, his voice making it clear that he was being completely genuine in that moment.

Alfred looked him up and down before commenting, "You're bloody wet, too, aren't ya?"

Bruce grinned and shrugged. "I needed a bath anyway."

"Now that we can agree on," Alfred commented snarkily with a small grin.

He hobbled off to find Gordon.

Bruce turned to Selina with a shocked expression on his face, saying, "I think he's starting to like me."

Selina rolled her eyes. "He's always liked you. He just can't say it."

Bruce scoffed. "Wouldn't bet on it."

She nodded, agreeing, "Yeah, you're right. He doesn't. But I do, so he'll just have to deal."

* * *

"Do you have to leave?" Bruce asked for the fiftieth time that morning.

Selina nodded solemnly. "Alfred says that these people are dangerous. I mean, Strange would've rather died than cross them, right?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't research them here," he said.

He knew the argument was hopeless. They were already on the tarmac, after all. But only yesterday had they finally made peace. Granted, it'd been because they almost died together, but the 'how' didn't matter. He just didn't want her to leave him again.

"Bruce…" she started, taking his shoulders in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "I need to do this."

He sighed. "I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She shook her head. "No, it doesn't." She sighed, stepping up on her tippy-toes and hugging him around his neck. "I'm gonna miss you, B," she mumbled.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I'm gonna miss you, too, Cat. Oh. And I have something for you," he told her, letting go and reaching into his jacket pocket. He fished out a small wooden box, hay sticking out from under the lid.

She opened it and found an ornate switchblade. She picked it up out of the box and opened it. The blade was as sleek and beautiful as the handle.

"Now, you officially have your own knife," he told her. "And I didn't steal this one."

She looked up at him with concern. "You bought this?"

He shrugged. "I'm no billionaire, but I'm not hurting, either. Stealing is good money when you don't have to split the profits."

She shook her head, closing the knife and slipping it into her pocket. "Thank you, Bruce," she told him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek for his trouble. She sighed again, saying, "I have to go. And my offer still stands…"

He scoffed. "Thanks, but I need to stay here. Just like you need to go."

She nodded, hugging him one last time. "I'll be back soon," she whispered.

Bruce nodded. "Gotham's not going anywhere." She smiled and started to walk off towards her private jet. "Enjoy Italy!" he called.

"Switzerland," she corrected.

"Italy's better."

She threw one last smile over her shoulder before reaching the stairs leading up to the plane. When she reached the top step, she turned back and waved.

He nodded, waving back.

He watched as she ducked into the plane, watched the plane roll away, watched it accelerate across the tarmac, watched it lift into the sky. He watched the plane grow smaller and smaller on the horizon until he couldn't see it anymore, and even then he stood there, watching.

He finally sighed, turning back and getting a cab to the city.

She'd offered to let him stay in the Manor while they were away, but he declined. There was no way he'd survive in that house alone for six months.

The Manor was nice, but the city was his home. Yet, when he got out of the taxi and looked around, his home suddenly felt different than before.

It felt bigger, emptier.

He walked towards the Gym, following one of his old hunting trails from when he used to work as a full-time pickpocket. He passed a lot of people, all of whom he probably would've robbed a year ago. Hell, he probably would've robbed them two days ago.

But now? It just seemed…boring.

In the past two months alone, he'd ran all over Gotham with Selina Wayne, hunted down two master assassins, broken into an insane asylum, won a prison brawl, barely escaped a bomb threat, and then kissed Selina Wayne.

How could stealing ever compare to that kind of rush?

He sighed in defeat, trying to think of something to alleviate his boredom.

He could go climb the Midtown Bridge?

But, no. He'd done that already. Many times.

He could hang out at the Flea?

Nah, he was sick of that place. And he wasn't in the mood for running across Jack Napier.

Maybe he could reach out to Floyd, see if he had any upcoming jobs?

But what would be the point? Nothing could compare to the adventures he'd had. Even when his life was hanging in the balance, even when he was facing certain death, that's what made it fun.

Six months…

How was he going to survive this?

He kicked a can down an alleyway. He watched it roll and roll and…stop.

Why did it stop?

He looked up from the ground and his blood ran cold.

A massive man was standing in his way. He easily seven feet tall, his eyes were bright blue, and he had massive stegosaurus-like blade sticking out of his arms and chest and back.

Bruce took a step backwards, keeping his eyes locked on the behemoth. How had he not noticed that thing before?

It all happened so fast.

Bruce reacted relatively quickly, just able to dive out of the way as the man charged him. However, what he didn't anticipate was the man being able to stop on a dime and change direction. This time, Bruce dove forwards, trying to go under the man's legs.

It didn't work.

The behemoth caught him, raised him high in the air, and then slammed him down onto a dumpster.

All the air rushed out of Bruce's lungs. What was this thing?

It reached down and grabbed Bruce's head, wrapping all the way around it with a single hand. It started to squeeze down.

Bruce cried out in pain, kicking at the man desperately. The monster didn't even flinch. Instead, it squeezed down harder.

He was hopelessly outmatched. He was going to die here, in this alleyway, his head crushed as easily as a watermelon.

He'd never get to see Selina again.

He started scratching and clawing at the man's arm, but accomplished nothing.

There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this thing from killing him.

Then, the blade of a sword appeared from out of the monster's abdomen.

The monster roared in pain, letting go of Bruce's head just long enough to swing around desperately at the new attacker.

Bruce's whole head was ringing, and his vision had gone blurry. He caught bits and pieces of the fight that ensued, ending with the monster running away. Whoever had just attacked that thing had saved his life.

His eyes eventually went right and he stared up at the newcomer.

"Jean?" he asked hazily. "The hell are you doing here?"

Jean scoffed. "Saving your ass from the looks of it. Come on, we should go before it comes back with friends." Bruce allowed Jean to help him to his feet and they hobbled off down the alley.

Jean helped him into a nearby abandoned building. There was a tent already pitched, a bum fire was crackling in the corner. There were a pair of beach chairs set up next to the tent, and Jean helped Bruce down onto one.

"You alright?" Jean asked, going over to his tent and pulling out a flask.

Bruce shrugged. "Been worse. This where you've been staying since…"

"I killed Galavan," Jean finished. "Yeah." He nodded to Bruce's leg, asking, "You want me to take a look at that?"

Bruce shrugged again, undoing the bandages.

He almost gagged at the sight of his leg. His calf had turned almost green in color.

"That's not good," Bruce muttered.

Jean nodded. "No, it isn't." He opened the flask and had Bruce hold out his leg straight. "This is gonna hurt like hell," Jean warned, holding the flask over Bruce's injury.

Bruce nodded.

Jean started to pour the liquid onto his leg.

Yeah. He was right about the 'hurt like hell' thing. The pain was probably worse than it'd been when he first got stabbed. He was about to yell for Jean to stop, but Jean stopped on his own, stopping the flow of the liquid.

Through heavy breaths, Bruce demanded, "What was that?"

Jean nodded to his leg as he sealed the flask and went to put it back in his tent. "See for yourself."

He raised his leg up and turned his head so he could see the back of his calf.

There was no mark, no scar, no cut, no nothing. The wound was simply gone, as if it never even happened.

Bruce's eyes shot to the flask. "Where'd you get that?"

Jean smirked, hiding the flask away. "That's classified." Bruce rolled his eyes. "So…" Jean started, taking the chair across from Bruce. "What happened with you and Selina?"

"That's classified," Bruce shot back. Jean scoffed and Bruce continued, "We found Strange, got him arrested, stopped a radioactive cloud from destroying Gotham… You know: the usual."

Jean nodded. "So, where's Selina, then? I wanted to apologize again for, well, you know…"

Bruce sighed. "She's off to Europe for six months. Butler's orders."

"What for?" Jean asked.

He shook his head dismissively, "Something about a super-powerful group that secretly runs Gotham. Selina thinks that they killed her parents."

Jean nodded. "You know, I heard something like that from my uncle. Back before I was trying to kill him."

Bruce chuckled. "You mean back when you were trying to kill me?"

"Yeah, exactly." Jean smirked, asking, "So, what're you gonna do now?"

Bruce shook his head. "I've been asking myself the same question. I can't exactly go back to stealing for Penguin…not until everything settles down. And with those _things_ running around, it's not exactly safe here anymore… I mean, that thing almost killed me."

Bruce sighed. Things were changing. Winter had come and gone, but it wasn't getting any better. If anything, the city was getting worse by the day. If he was gonna survive in Gotham on his own, he had to become stronger, like Jean had done.

"What can you tell me about the League of Assassins?"

* * *

"So, I take it your conversation with Mr. Kyle went well?"

"Yes, Ra's al Ghul, it did."

"Well done, Mr. Valley. Continue speaking with Mr. Kyle. Encourage his interest."

"Yes, Ra's al Ghul."

"And, Mr. Valley, will you send in Talia?"

"Yes, Ra's al Ghul." He bustled off, saying, "Ms. al Ghul, your father requests your presence," before closing the door behind him.

Talia sauntered into the chamber, casually laying out on one of the couches in the center of the room. She nodded to the door where Jean had just exited. "He's cute."

"He did a great work for me," Ra's replied stoically. "The murder of one's own flesh and blood is by no means a small task. He shall be rewarded accordingly."

"Why did you have him kill Galavan again?" Talia asked, picking at her fingernails with a knife. "Why let the Court bring him back in the first place?"

Ra's clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You would not yet understand, my daughter. You're still but a child."

"I'm fifteen…" Talia muttered.

Ra's ignored her, continuing, "The Court believes that they have finally matched our Lazarus Pit. Not having to retrain a new Talon every twenty years or so would aid their cause greatly."

"But why let them resurrect Galavan? Why let them make monsters?" Talia asked.

"Because, if Galavan returned, then so could Mr. Valley. And Mr. Valley could bring in Mr. Wayne, and Mr. Wayne will join us to protect the city he loves from these monsters. We'll turn him against the Court, bring him to our side. It seems no matter what I do, that boy will become a warrior. So I will make him _my_ warrior. My heir."

"I'm sitting right here…" Talia muttered.

"And when the Crusader joins us, when he takes the mantle of al Ghul, we will finally exterminate the Owls."

 **A/N: You know that saying 'Go out with a bang'? Well there you go.**

 **I originally had intended for Chapter 31 to cover all the events of both Episodes 21 and 22, using Chapter 32 (this one) as a denouement/epilogue for Season 2 and using it to lead into the main events and plot points of Season 3. But then I wrote the scene of Selina and Lucius being gassed and it went in a completely different direction than I had originally intended, so I rolled with it and left what happened afterwards as a cliffhanger. It made Chapter 32 longer than I anticipated and 31 shorter than I anticipated, but I like the way it turned out. Besides, I wrote the whole of Chapter 31 in about two days, so being able to publish it on Sunday night was a miracle.**

 **As for this chapter, it is by far my favorite Chapter I've ever written. If I had to show a sample of my work to anyone, this would be it. And as a disclaimer: I will be varying from the show's version of the Court of Owls and the League of Assassins** _ **greatly**_ **, of which I will delve into more as Season 3 goes on. Be prepared, cause it's gonna be a wild ride.**

 **Oh, and I'd like to point out that the parallel of the end of this chapter with Selina flying away on a plane and 5x11's episode ending with Bruce flying away on a plane was not intentional, since I'd written out that scene over a month and a half ago. I'm just that good ;)**

 **But in all seriousness, thank you for reading this far. You guys are truly amazing and I love you all. It's been an absolute blast writing this series and I can't look forward enough to starting up Season 3. Any feedback would be welcome!**

 **Thanks for reading and ciao for now from Season 2!**

 **And in thanks to you for reading all the way through the Author's Note, as well as to pay homage to the soon-to-premiere** _ **Avengers: Endgame**_ **, here's a post-credits scene:**

 _Twenty-Four Hours Earlier:_

An old lady with a shopping cart walked down the street. Her vision was horrible, not helped by the terribly out-of-date prescription glasses she wore.

She didn't even notice the turned over bus until a man yelled, "Help!" from inside it.

She gasped in surprise, saying, "Oh, those poor souls…" She lumbered towards the back exit of the bus, stammering, "Hello? Hello?" She slowly pushed the latch open.

She gasped again, this time in horror, slowly backing away from the bus.

A very un-human like hand slid out of the door, pushing it open.

She cried out and stumbled backwards as more and more blurry figures poured out of the back of the bus, snarling and hissing, growling and groaning, walking past her and into the abandoned streets.

They all seemed to ignore her, except for one. He looked the most human of all the monsters. In fact, there was absolutely nothing strange about his appearance. Other than his long, matted, greasy hair that cast down to his shoulders, the young man was quite handsome.

He leaned over her, clearly and eloquently saying, "Thank you," before turning and walking off into the night along with the rest of the monsters.

 **A/N: I'll see you in the Mad City! And I won't take a three month break this time. Just three days (hopefully)**


	33. Six Months Later

**A/N: Happy** _ **Gotham**_ **Series Finale! I'm writing this Author Note way ahead of time, since I know I'll probably be bawling after the episode, and I'd like to take this time while I'm not in hysterics to thank** _ **Gotham**_ **for all it's done for me.** _ **Gotham**_ **is, and forever will be, my favorite show. Seeing David and Camren grow up and watching their characters change and develop over the years is what encouraged me to finally take up writing on here. In fact, this story debuted exactly one year ago on April 25** **th** **, 2018. On** _ **Roles Reversed**_ **'s first birthday, Season 5 concludes. Through a year, we've made it through two Seasons of the show and debuted the third. This experience has been one of my favorites of my life, and it's all because of you reading it. So thank you** _ **Gotham**_ **and thank you Gothamites for making all of this possible. I can't tell you in words how much this experience means to me and how much its changed my life.**

 **But I'm not done yet, not even close. We still have three seasons of content to go through and** _ **a lot**_ **of mysteries to unravel. So here's Chapter 33, the first chapter of** _ **Roles Reversed Season Three: Mad City!**_ **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Six Months Later**

Bruce was running across the rooftops of the theatre district. Being a seasoned street kid, he knew that running on a wet night like that one could be dangerous, but the danger of it was what made it fun.

He leapt onto a raised ledge of a building and took in the full view of Downtown Gotham. Breathing in the smoggy air from down below, he descended from his perch, dropping down onto the awning of a storefront and then down to the streets below.

He grinned. It was Friday night, a perfect time to hunt.

Or, at least, three years ago it would've been.

Nowadays, the city streets were barren by dusk. Ever since Strange's monsters had been let loose out of Arkham, the city had gone crazy. People were terrified to go out at night, especially in the Narrows where most of the sightings occurred. For a pickpocket, empty streets spelled disaster.

Luckily for Bruce, he was no pickpocket.

Not anymore.

Nowadays, he hunted much larger, more dangerous prey than old ladies with overstuffed grocery bags.

His police radio (which he'd 'borrowed' off a cop three months earlier) went off on his belt.

He picked it up to his mouth, asking, "What do we got?"

From the other end, Ted replied, "Break-in at the Mishkin Pharmacy on Queen and 2nd. One of Strange's monsters."

"Thanks for the tip, Officer," Bruce teased.

Ted groaned from the other side. "Just get over there. I gotta report it to Barnes within the minute. Thought I'd give you a head start. Be careful."

Bruce scoffed. "Aren't I always?"

He smiled to himself as he tore off down the street.

And so the hunt began.

He reached the storefront relatively quickly, taking cover behind a nearby van as he studied the store. The front door had been knocked off inward clean off its hinges. Other than that, everything seemed quiet, calm even.

Then, a dude in a doctor's coat got thrown through a window.

The next thing he knew, a giant, hulking figure of a man came lumbering out of the store, his gaze locked on pharmacist. Bruce's blood ran cold. He recognized this one.

Easily seven feet tall, inhumanly muscular, spikes sticking out of his arms, chest, and back…

Bruce started to emerge from his hiding place, ready to charge the beast and protect the man, but someone else cut in.

"Hey!" another man barked, emerging from the darkness of a nearby alleyway.

Bruce recognized his voice and inwardly groaned. What was Jim Gordon doing here? He never patrolled this far south of Midtown.

Gordon flicked open what looked like an extendable police baton. He asked the beast, "Any chance you want to come quietly?"

The monster simply snarled in return.

Gordon shrugged in defeat, charging the beast. He swung his police baton at the monster's head, but it simply bounced off. It stared Gordon down, grabbing him by the shoulders and tossing him a dozen feet through the air. He almost cleared the whole of Queen Street before managing to roll to a stop.

Bruce stood and leaned up against the van, quipping, "You got this one, Gordon?"

Jim whipped around in surprise. "Bruce? What're you doing here?"

"Same as you," Bruce responded, standing upright and starting towards the monster.

"Careful," Jim warned. "It's strong."

"Yeah, we've met before," Bruce told him, breaking into a full sprint as he charged the beast.

The monster seemed surprised, swinging a lazy punch off its back foot as Bruce came within range.

That was its first mistake, as well as its last one.

Bruce dodged the slow-developing blow, leaving his feet and dropkicking the monster in its left knee. Its leg gave out, but Bruce caught the monster mid-fall, wrapping his arm around the beast's neck and throwing a knee into its head.

Bruce smirked to himself.

Game over.

He tightened his grip around the monster's neck, kicked out its other leg, and fell backwards, slamming the monster's head into the pavement.

Bruce climbed to his feet, sighing contently as he admired his handiwork. He stepped over the monster's unconscious body, helping the pharmacist to his feet and asking if he was alright.

The man simply stared at him, and then turned and ran off screaming.

Bruce chuckled to himself, reaching for his radio, changing the frequency and asking, "Floyd, you there?"

"Yup. Where you at?" Floyd Lawton asked.

"Corner of Queen and 2nd, I took down a big one."

"One monster-mover is on its way to your location," Floyd quipped as the line went dead.

Bruce walked over to the monster, lightly tapping it in the face with his shoe to make sure it was unconscious.

He looked up at Gordon who was shaking his head in disbelief. "Hey, Bruce."

"Hey, yourself," Bruce responded, taking a seat on the monster's chest. "How ya doing?"

Gordon sighed. "Not great. Someone keeps stealing all my bounties."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow, defensively saying, "Hey, you're _way_ out of your territory. I got dibs," he said, patting the monster below him.

Gordon smirked and asked, "How are you doing, Bruce?"

He shrugged. "Chillin." He sighed. "I just gotta say, it's still weird seeing you without the badge."

Jim shook his head, leaning up against a lamppost. "No, I'm done with all that."

Bruce nodded. "Good on you, Gordon, sticking it to the man. The hell have they ever done for you?"

"Well actu–"

"Nothing!" Bruce interrupted. "I say screw 'em. If you ever need work, let me know. I know a guy."

Jim nodded slowly, drawling, "I'll keep that in mind. But…doesn't your brother work there now?"

Bruce scoffed, a knowing smirk dancing on his lips. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that."

"What would you call it?" Gordon asked.

"I call it getting leads on these things and splitting the profits," Bruce told him, patting his monster-seat again.

From down the road, the roaring of a truck's engine reverberated off the tight walls of the street's buildings.

"About time…" Bruce muttered, standing up off of the monster as Floyd pulled up.

Bruce let down the truck bed and pulled out the end of the truck's winch, wrapping the rope tightly around the monster's body. Floyd turned on the retracting-mechanism, slowly but surely pulling the monster onto the back of their truck. His feet were still hanging out the back, but it was good enough for now. The precinct wasn't too far.

Bruce wiped off his hands and turned to Gordon, saying, "Well, thanks for the help, but I'll be claiming this one since, ya know, you got your ass handed to you."

Gordon nodded and smiled good-naturedly. "Fine, as long as you don't mention this to anyone."

Bruce shook his head in mock confusion. "Mention what?"

Jim nodded. "Out of curiosity, how many does that one make for you?"

Bruce smirked. "Nine."

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, nine of those in six months. Not doing too bad, are you son?"

Bruce shrugged. "Keeping the lights on."

Jim sighed. "Well, you should probably get going before it wakes up. Good luck, Bruce."

Bruce nodded, climbing into Floyd's truck. "See ya, Gordon."

The engine roared to life and Floyd took off down the street. Bruce smiled to himself as they drove through the near-empty city, staring out the window and up at the night sky.

Floyd noticed his almost goofy expression. "What's up with you?" he asked, waving his hand in front of Bruce's face.

Bruce rolled his eyes, his persistent grin refusing to back down. "Nothing. Gordon just reminded me of something."

Floyd cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Bruce was practically beaming. "It's been six months."

* * *

Alfred fiddled with the lock on the front door of Wayne Manor, finally managing to push the door open. The house was dead quiet, a light layer of dust covering everything and anything with a smooth surface. It looked abandoned, like it hadn't been lived in for months.

Alfred huffed, returning his keys to his inner coat pocket. "I take it Mr. Kyle didn't take you up on the offer then?"

Selina shook her head, half-heartedly mumbling, "Guess not." She wasn't really listening, her full attention turned to the drafty hallway leading into the Manor. The place felt…different. It was her home, she'd grown up here, but she felt like she was looking at it all from a different angle.

Maybe it was just a result of living somewhere else for six months. Maybe it was just because she'd gotten taller since she'd left.

She wandered through the house as Alfred brought in their bags. She glimpsed into the kitchen, remembering the time when she'd stolen Alfred's keys to the 'Secret Room' that she was now so acquainted with. She walked upstairs, tracing her fingers along the dusty railing as she went. It was where she'd learned how to balance, how to conquer any fear of heights by embracing it. She strolled down the hallway, ending up in her father's study. She couldn't count the number of memories she had in that room, ranging from some of her all-time favorites to some that kept her up at night.

This place was filled with her history, her life. This was her home. So what was wrong with it?

She walked over to her father's desk. Even if she'd repurposed the room to suit her research into Wayne Enterprises, she'd never had the heart to change a thing about his desk. She traced her finger along a gash in the mahogany. That was where Galavan, or Azrael or whatever he called himself, nearly decapitated her when he attacked the Manor. Less than a foot to the right sat a framed photograph. It was a simple picture, three people, a man, woman, and little girl, all smiling. None of them had a care in the world.

"Well, that should be the last of it," Alfred announced as he bustled into the study, wiping his dusty hands off on his pants. "I put the kettle on. There's nothing like a sweet cup of tea to make home feel like home after a long trip away."

Selina didn't respond. Her gaze was locked on the happy family in the photograph.

"You all right?" Alfred asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She sighed, placing the photo back down on the table. "Were we right to leave, Alfred?" she asked. "Stay away all this time?"

"Well, considering the appalling sight of the topiary, I should say absolutely bloody not," he joked.

"Alfred, you know what I mean," she stated sharply.

He sighed. "I know you know why we left."

"We had to leave," she practically whispered.

"You're nervous about tomorrow, aren't you?" Alfred guessed. She nodded. "Well, you wouldn't be human if you weren't. So why don't you sit down, take a pew. Pop your feet up, and I'll see about that lovely cup of tea. All right?"

Selina nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Alfred."

* * *

Bruce found Butch sitting at the bar of the Sirens Club. He'd already downed two glasses before Bruce even reached him, and he noted how much Butch was staring across the club at Tabby.

He'd heard the news. Everyone in the Underworld had.

He strolled over to where Butch was sitting, patting him on the shoulder and sitting down next to him. "You okay, Butch?" he asked, holding up a hand when the bartender asked if he wanted anything to drink. "World getting you down?"

Gilzean sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine, kid. Word to the wise: don't screw up relationships if you can help it. You'll regret it."

Bruce slowly nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Gilzean gave him a second glance and furrowed his brow, saying, "You're too young to be in here. Scram."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Jeesh. Just trying to be nice."

He got up to walk away, already fingering through Gilzean's wallet. He may not be a full-time pickpocket anymore, but it was still a hobby. He was almost to the door when a rough, boney hand latched onto his arm, pulling him to a screeching halt.

His free hand shot behind his jacket to his lower back, his fingers already around the handle of his knife when he realized who had stopped him.

"Oh, hey, Penguin," he drawled, letting go of his knife as Penguin let go of his arm. "How ya doing?"

Cobblepot smiled at him, saying, "Quite well, thank you. And how are you doing, Bruce? How's business?"

Bruce shrugged. "Its fine. What do you want?"

Cobblepot sighed, asking, "Can I not simply have a conversation with one of my former employees?"

Bruce cocked an eyebrow, stating, "I haven't worked for you in almost a year. What do you want, Penguin?"

Cobblepot relented, saying, "Fine. I've been meaning to speak with you about a job opportunity, a position in my empire."

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. "No thanks. I'm good."

Penguin shook his head, clearly bewildered by being told no so quickly. "You haven't even heard my offer yet," he stammered.

Bruce shrugged. "Don't need to. I'm already working for someone else. Thanks for the offer though." He started to walk away, throwing over his shoulder, "And good luck on your hunt for Mooney."

Gilzean stepped out in front of him, blocking his path. Bruce glared up at him, having half a mind to simply go through Penguin's head of security.

But was beating up Butch really worth making a scene?

He sighed, turning back around as Penguin asked, "Have you heard anything about Miss Mooney's whereabouts?"

Bruce shook his head. "Nah, she's not worth my time."

Penguin furrowed his brow, asking, "Don't you hunt down Strange's monsters?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, but Fish Mooney isn't just some monster. And five grand sure as hell ain't enough to go after someone like her."

Penguin stared at him, the cogs clearly churning away in his head. He slowly nodded, saying, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Cool," Bruce stated. "Now, are you gonna tell your monkey to move, or am I gonna have to do it?" he asked, nodding to Gilzean behind him.

Penguin worked his jaw from side to side, barking, "Butch, let Mr. Kyle out please."

Gilzean stepped out of the way and Bruce walked out of the club, tossing Butch his empty wallet as he left.

* * *

Selina sat in the lobby of the Wayne Enterprises Penthouse, waiting to be invited into the boardroom. They were separated from the members by only a wall of glass, and Selina could feel their eyes boring into her. Her stomach was churning in anticipation.

"You all right, Miss Wayne?" Alfred finally asked.

Selina nodded. "Hungry. I should've eaten."

Finally, the door to the board room opened and they were beckoned inside.

Selina pulled her suit jacket closed, determined to look as professional and unfazed as possible in the midst of the vipers. She wore a simple black pant suit, an elegant off-white lace top with a v-neckline, and black heels to add to her height.

She turned to Alfred, whispering, "I do this, there's no turning back."

"No, there isn't," he agreed. "So you say your piece. We'll see about getting you a proper breakfast, all right?"

Selina nodded, turning away from Alfred and confidently marching towards the room. Her heels clacked sharply on the ground, thereby bringing every pair of eyes in the room to her as she entered. She held her head up high, looking past the secretary as if she didn't even exist. She entered the board room, looking every member dead in the eyes before finally sitting down at the head of the table.

She didn't speak immediately, choosing instead to prolong the tense silence as she scanned the room again.

When she was good and ready, she started the meeting. She spoke clearly and concisely, saying, "I'd like to thank the board for giving me this time. It will come as no surprise I'd like to talk about Indian Hill." She let the silence stir for a moment, and then continued, "I know preliminary investigations have concluded Hugo Strange acted alone. I call bullshit."

A low surprised muttering passed through the room.

Before anyone else could jump in, she continued, "While trapped in Indian Hill, I was led to believe an unnamed group had taken control of my company, and it was they who hired Hugo Strange. I left Gotham both for my own safety and so that I might have the time to discover hard evidence of their existence."

She paused again, letting the board soak in her words. And in the midst of the silence, someone laughed.

Selina turned to him, her eyes burning.

The dictionary definition of the word 'cuck' was just a picture of this guy.

"A conspiracy theory?" he asked belligerently. "That's why we're all here?"

He chuckled again, but Selina didn't back down. Instead she sat up in her chair, saying, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't remember your name. Or perhaps I never knew it…"

"Crowley," he answered flatly, clearly not appreciating Selina's words of belittlement.

"Mr. Crowley, get out."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What did you just say to me?" he asked, leaning forwards in confrontation.

"I said, get out," Selina stated. "You're fired. Security will escort you from the premises."

Crowley stared at her in utter shock. A pair of security guards entered and stood behind him. He slowly stood from the table and walked away, utter bewilderment plastered on his face.

When the door closed, Selina continued as if nothing had happened, saying, "I know how it sounds. But I now have proof they exist. And I can tell you that they're here. In this room." She paused, taking another moment to stare down the members of the Board. Then, she abruptly stood from her chair, buttoning up her jacket and telling them, "I want to talk face to face with each of you, exempting Mr. Crowley of course. You have twenty four hours to contact me, or the information that I've gathered will be sent to every newspaper and television station in Gotham." She gave a polite smile. "Thank you for your time."

She turned from the table and strode away, loudly asking Alfred, "Who's my next appointment?"

"The governor, Miss Wayne," Alfred replied as the doors closed, making sure the Board heard them. When they were clear of earshot, Alfred added, "Either him or Mr. Kyle."

Selina smiled ear to ear. "The governor can wait."

* * *

She found him on the roof of the Sionis Building, a regular meeting point they'd set up back when she lived with him in the Narrows. She took the elevator up to the top floor, and then took the short staircase to the roof. She opened the roof-access door and stepped out onto gravel floor.

There he was.

Bruce was sitting on the edge of the building, his legs dangling over the twelve story drop. He turned when the door closed, standing up from the ledge.

They both paused for a moment, studying each other.

"Hi," she said hesitantly.

"Hi," he replied.

Then, Selina charged him, throwing her arms around his neck. He lifted her clean off her feet, his arms latched around her waist.

"Hey, Cat," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Hey, B," she murmured, sighing contently as she relaxed into his arms.

They stood there for what felt like a short eternity, neither moving a muscle.

During that time, it dawned on Selina what had been missing from the Manor. What had been missing from her memories. She and _Bruce_ had stolen Alfred's keys. _He_ had been the one who taught her how to overcome her fear of heights. All those memories from her father's study, the good and the bad, almost all of them revolved around _him_.

Finally, Selina let go, stepping back to arm's length and getting her first good look at him.

So…she'd gotten taller over the past six months, but he looked like a completely different person. Before, he'd always been skinny and fit, maybe a bit long and lanky but always athletic. Now, he was starting to resemble Ted's build. He was less bulky than his older brother, but the change that had occurred in six months was almost unbelievable.

He was examining her, too. If he hadn't gotten taller over the past six months, Selina probably would've caught up to him. She'd let her curls grow out so they occasionally grazed the tops of her shoulders. Other than her leather jacket, she was wearing an outfit he'd never seen before. Had she gone to the Flea without him? He almost felt hurt at the thought.

"Wow…" she muttered, blatantly looking him up and down without an ounce of shame.

He flashed a small grin, cheekily replying, "Right back at ya."

She rolled her eyes. "So, how did… _this_ happen?" she asked, gesturing to all of him.

He shrugged. "More training, better diet, all the works."

She shook her head. "Well the works worked," she said, lightly punching him in the chest, earning a smile. "Bet it helps with 'night shifts', huh? What does Ted think?"

He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. "Man…you really have been gone for a while," he said, chuckling at her.

* * *

"You know…" Selina muttered as she finished off her plate of pancakes. "I can't picture Ted joining the GCPD. It just doesn't seem like him."

Bruce shrugged, licking the syrup off his fingers. "That's what I said. But having a man on the inside makes my job easier, so I'm not complaining."

She cocked an eyebrow, leaning up on her elbows attentively. "What kind of job?"

He nodded out the window, saying, "I've been hunting down Strange's monsters, at least, the ones dumb enough to stay in Gotham. It's good money, too, five grand a pop. I already caught nine."

She shook her head. "You're insane, you know that, right?"

He shrugged. "What else is new?"

She laughed. "That's fair…"

They fell into a content silence, Bruce cleaning off his plate as Selina absentmindedly stirred around the ice in her cup.

She sighed. "Bruce…do you remember what we found that night in Indian Hill, what Strange implied?"

"You mean the secret, faceless group that infiltrated your company and tried to kill you and that you left Gotham for six months to research?" he asked. "Nah, must've missed that part."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I have a plan to smoke them out." Bruce nodded and she continued, "I had a meeting with the Board of Directors this morning. I told them I have hard evidence that they exist and I'll send it to every major media source in Gotham if they don't contact me first."

He nodded. "That's…bold," he said slowly, a mix of pride and worry dancing in his eyes. "So, what are you telling me for?"

She sighed, returning her gaze to the melting ice in her cup. "These people are powerful. We need to assume that they know we're friends. I need you to be careful."

Bruce got a cocky grin. "Aren't I always?"

"Bruce, this is serious," she stated.

He nodded. "I know. I'll be safe, Selina. I promise. But…if I'm being honest, I don't think anything could surprise me at this point. Secret societies, monsters, bears in Midtown…"

"Bears?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Don't ask."

She laughed again, thoroughly enjoying his company. She sighed, telling him, "I'm really sorry about leaving for so long, Bruce. I really wanted to contact you, but–"

"Selina," he started, cutting her off and placing one of his hands on hers, "it's fine. I'm fine. _We're_ fine. Besides, I've had a lot to do recently."

His phone went off in his jacket which was strewn over the back of the booth.

For a split second, Selina was met with a simple choice: take hold of his hand before he moved it, or let him grab his phone. It was stupid and insignificant, but in hindsight she should've chosen the former. Instead, she let the opportunity pass.

He ruffled through his jacket, pulling out his phone and reading a text.

He sighed sadly and her heart drooped. She already knew what he was about to say.

"I have to go," he told her, closing his phone and slipping it into his pocket. He stood from the table, grabbing his jacket as he did so. She noticed a flash of metal as the jacket slipped from the booth to his hand.

"What's that?" she asked, nodding to the jacket.

He opened the jacket fully, letting her see the object inside. It was a knife, not a switchblade but a full, solid knife. The design of it was old and elegant, the blade itself clear of any red stains. It was beautiful, yet terrifying.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked, suddenly transfixed on the dagger.

He shrugged, pulling on the jacket. "Did a job for a guy. The knife was part of the reward. What about you? You still have _your_ knife?"

She smiled, pulling it halfway out of her coat sleeve. "Never leave home without it."

He grinned, bending over and saying, "Atta girl," before planting a light kiss on her temple. "I'll call you later. We can hang out or something."

She nodded. "Okay. I'd like that."

He nodded, walking off out of the diner.

She glanced at the table where he'd slyly left money for the meal, knowing her stance on paying for things since she was a billionaire. Along with it was a small slip of paper. She unraveled it and found ten numbers, his phone number.

She smiled.

Physical transformation or not, he was the same Bruce Kyle as he'd always been. Nothing had changed. She didn't need to worry.

* * *

Selina sat in the study, watching Alfred bustle around. He closed all the windows and locked all the doors in preparation for the night.

"Right, once this alarm is set, Miss Wayne, no coming downstairs till the morning, is that clear?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, but was a new alarm system really necessary?" she asked.

"I don't know. Was it really necessary offering a challenge to a shadowy cabal?" he retorted. "Yes, it was necessary, Miss Wayne."

She sighed, walking off down the hallway to her bedroom. She knew Alfred was just trying to keep her safe, but she could fend for herself now. She didn't need him to go through all this trouble.

If someone wanted to get at her, she'd give them a hell of a time doing it.

She pulled her knife from her sleeve, flicking it open and absentmindedly twirling it around in her fingers. As she reached her door, she paused and listened.

There was a 'CRASH!' in the study.

"ALFRED!" she screamed as she sprinted back to her father's study. She whipped around the corner, searching for the cause of the noise.

Ice ran down her spine.

Alfred was on the ground, unmoving, and man in a mask was standing over him. She recognized the mask. It was black, covered the man's whole head, and its designs greatly resembled an owl's eyes and beak. Yet, it didn't seem like the man who she'd seen before, back when they'd found Pinewood Farms with Karen Jennings. This one was shorter, leaner, and his body armor was covered with a long, black cloak.

Either way, he was staring right at her, a long, wicked blade extruding from his wrist and shimmering in the low moonlight.

She raised her own blade, preparing to defend Alfred with her life.

The man simply raised his hand, saying in a clear and eloquent voice, "Drop the knife and he lives."

Selina faltered. Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to drop the knife, but what if she did? Who was to stop this guy from charging her? How would she stop him if she was unarmed?

"Drop it?" Selina asked. "Fine." She threw the knife at the intruder, her target the dead-center of his chest.

In a millisecond, the intruder dodged the blade, leapt away from Alfred, and descended on her, knocking her off her feet and wrapping an arm around her neck. She struggled against him, scratching and clawing at his wrist and then his face. She got hold of his mask just as the man's hand came down on her mouth. He was holding a white cloth.

Selina realized what was happening far too late. She breathed in, inhaling the raw chloroform powder. Everything started to go fuzzy as her vision started to fade away. She was so tired…

In a last ditch effort to defend herself, she yanked down on the mask, pulling it clean off the intruder's head.

She wished she hadn't. A million thoughts and emotions rushed through her as she drifted into unconsciousness, fear and confusion being the most common of them. But she knew one thing for sure.

As her world faded into blackness, Bruce Kyle was staring down at her.

 **A/N: And so it begins. I'd like to say that I'm going to make A LOT of changes to Season 3. Like, a lot, a lot. It's personally my least favorite of the five seasons of** _ **Gotham**_ **, and I think they missed a huge opportunity for a very particular event that I've teased a bit already but I'm not gonna spoil here, so be ready. Shit's gonna go down. Anyways, as always, thank you for your continued support and if you'd be so kind as to Review, it would be very much appreciated! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **The following is my Review and closing thoughts on the final episode of** _ **Gotham**_ **:**

 **Can I just say…WOW. This was all I could've asked for and then some! THANK YOU** _ **GOTHAM**_ **! I'm so, so glad we got a final, concluding season, especially with Disney buying out Fox. It's really a miracle that we got to see any of this, and other fandoms weren't as lucky. BUT WE WERE! AND HOLY MOTHER MARY WAS IT GOOD! I take back that thing I said about being sad it's over because, honestly, it couldn't have ended better. Every loose end was tied up, Selina and Bruce came to a peace, and Bruce is the motherfucking Batman. How could it have ended better?**

 **As for the recasting of Selina, I was originally upset that they didn't let Camren finish off what she started. Then, I read her explanation of what happened, how she volunteered to be recast, and I made peace with it. Then, I saw Lili** _ **freaking**_ **Simmons perform, and all I could see was an older Camren. Just wow! She pulled off the character so effortlessly, and I honestly think that she and Camren might be the best Catwoman live-action representation since Michelle Pfeiffer, maybe even better! Bravo! And the scene with Bruce I was just gushing with emotions ranging from anger to remorse to full on joy when he said, "I'll never leave Gotham again." And the smile on her face, just…there are some things only an actor can do, things you can't write. Absolutely loved it.**

 **As for Batman: I've never gotten chills so many times in an episode for the whole of this series. When I saw the teaser scene of Selina breaking in and stealing the diamond and Bruce watching over her, all I could think was that this version of Batman was going to blow the doors off. And I was not disappointed. And then throughout the episode as they teased us over and over and over again first just hearing him move after Selina stole the diamond, then seeing his arms and hearing him call out to Gordon, then seeing him escape through the window with the smoke grenade, then seeing the fear of God he put into Penguin and Riddler, then seeing him finally beat Jeremiah (WHO THEY NEVER CALLED JOKER WTF IS THIS?!) and saved Barbara Lee, then (once again) the scene with him and Selina which was simply flawless, and then finally seeing the full on Batman in all of his glory…just wow. I gotta say, I get some serious George Clooney vibes from it, but I also kinda dig the retro look for this setting.**

 **And then, the final GOTHAM title card with the bat in the background. Do I even need to say how epic that was? That** _ **will**_ **be my screensaver on my laptop for a long time to come (as soon as someone puts it on the internet which has probably already happened).**

 **So, in conclusion, all I can say is thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **. Thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for taking us on such a wild ride of a story. Thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for giving us some of the best interpretations of these characters ever in a live action setting. Thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for inspiring me to finally bite the bullet and publish my first ever story on this site. Thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for surviving through the dog-eat-dog world that is Hollywood and delivering us one of the best Seasons of the whole series. Thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for sticking by both your fans and your actors alike. Thank you,** _ **Gotham,**_ **for bringing Cameron Monaghan back from the dead, twice. Thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for never forgetting what you are: a Batman origin story. And thank you,** _ **Gotham**_ **, for giving us The Batman.**

 **Our Monday/Thursday nights will never be the same without you, but your memory will live on in us, the Gothamites, those who stood by the show and its characters through the good moments and the many, many bad ones. We love you,** _ **Gotham**_ **.**

 **May Season 6 live on forever in our hearts and our pens.**

 **So, thank you** _ **Gotham**_ **and farewell** _ **.**_

 **Love,**

 **-Jak**


	34. Better to Reign in Hell

**A/N: So, I'd like to take this time to talk a bit about the Finale Episode again. I rewatched it and there were some things that I picked up on the second time around. First off: the Bruce and Selina scene is still my favorite part of the episode by far. My heart just tears itself apart hearing her words of anguish over how she didn't want his protection, she just wanted him. And then the way they leave things which, granted, could've been better but I liked it because it felt more like a comma in their story, not a full stop, like there's more to be seen. It's the way Batman and Catwoman always are and a fitting way to leave off in my opinion.**

 **I wish the finale would've been longer, and, in hindsight, I wish they would've just recast David. Don't get me wrong: I absolutely love David to the deepest parts of my soul. But having an older Bruce Wayne to interact face-to-face with the other characters (particularly Selina) would've made the episode a lot better. It just felt like we didn't see much of him, and we never actually did see Bruce Wayne, just Batman. I appreciate** _ **Gotham**_ **sticking by its actors, but I think we would've understood had they recast him for an older actor, at least for the Bruce Wayne scenes rather than the Batman shots.**

 **But what do you think? I've seen and heard a lot of unrest from the fandom towards the final episode, basically culminating to: "It was fine, but it could've been so much better." To this, I absolutely agree, but the writers and producers were also working with TV and legal restraints, as well as real people in actors and executives. It sucks for them, but luckily for us non-canon writers, we have no restraints besides our imaginations.**

 **So here's Chapter 34 of** _ **Roles Reversed**_ **. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Better to Reign in Hell**

Selina gasped for air as she came to consciousness.

How long had she been out? Where was she? Was Alfred alright?

Her mind was moving a mile a minute, so much so that she didn't even notice the woman sitting at the other end of the table until she cleared her throat.

"Selina," the woman spoke, her voice cold and raspy.

Her eyes bolted to the head of the table where the voice had come from. Sitting there was a tall, skinny woman with the palest blonde hair Selina had ever seen. She was clearly older, given her gnarled hands and long, fragile structure. However, her face was hidden by a mask. It was white, covered the top half of her face, and greatly resembled an owl.

Selina looked frantically around the room, searching for a man in a black owl mask, the person who'd abducted her. The one whose face she'd seen.

"You wanted to talk," the woman stated, bringing Selina's attention back to her. Selina stared at her, frozen. The woman chuckled and reached up to her face, removing the mask, placing it on the table. "Forgive me," she apologized. Selina got a good look at her face. Like the rest of her, her face was long and bony, worn down from age. "Better?" the woman asked.

Something clicked in Selina's mind. She'd seen this woman before.

"I know you," Selina stated. "I've seen you at Wayne Enterprises events. You've…you've been inside my home."

"My name is Kathryn," the woman said cheerfully. "I represent the group you've asked to speak with."

"You didn't have to hurt Alfred," Selina said.

"He would not have permitted you to meet with us alone," Kathryn replied.

"You tried to kill me," Selina accused, her hand drifting towards her sleeve where her knife was hidden. Or, at least, where it would've been hidden. She'd thrown it at her kidnapper. "You were behind Indian Hill. Hugo Strange was hired by you."

"Is that why you're here, Selina?" Kathryn asked, almost boredly. "To ask questions you already know the answers to?"

Selina took a deep breath. She may've been alone in the room with an elderly woman, but one of those people in the masks could appear at any moment. She needed to stay calm.

"Who are you?" Selina asked. "What do you call yourselves?"

"Our name is unimportant," Kathryn stated. "Now," she started, rolling away from the table and starting towards where Selina was sitting. Yes, rolling, the woman was in a wheelchair. "You made a threat," Kathryn continued. "Referring to evidence you'd uncovered of our existence. We would like to know what you found."

Selina suddenly realized the position she was in. Even if she was at the mercy of the people in the black owl masks, they'd brought her here not to threaten her, but to know what she knew.

Thereby, she was in the position of power.

"Nothing fully certain," she drawled. She scoffed. "Until now."

"A bluff," Kathryn concluded.

Selina shook her head. "No. You're not as good as you think you are. I mean, you let a teenage girl find you. It wasn't even that hard. So no, it wasn't just a bluff. The more I studied my company's doings, the more there were things that could only be explained by your existence. Still," she drawled, kicking her feet up on the table and picking at her fingernails, "I had to know for sure. Now I do. Thank you, Kathryn."

"And what now?" Kathryn asked. "According to you, we tried to kill you once."

Selina rolled her eyes. "I began all this because I wanted to solve my parents' murder. Six months ago, I concluded your organization responsible. And I was correct."

Kathryn smiled. "Partially, yes, you were."

That comment completely derailed Selina's confidence train. "Partially?" she asked. "How so?"

Kathryn sighed. "Stand up, child. Walk with me." Selina did so, walking along with Kathryn as they made their way out of the main room.

They entered a long, twisting hallway, the walls decorated with portraits of men and women, all wearing owl masks, some of which looked ancient and battered.

"Selina…do you know who we are?" Kathryn asked. "How we run things?"

"You infiltrate the largest, most influential groups in society."

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, that is true, but I mean something different. Do you know how we run things _amongst ourselves_?" Selina furrowed her brow, not offering an answer. Kathryn nodded, drawling, "I suspected such. You see, Selina, up until recently our…group has operated in a monarchy system. Alexander the Great, Caesar, Napoleon, all were conquerors and all were members of our organization. We are not only from Gotham, we originated thousands of years ago at the dawn of civilization. We've been a guiding force throughout the ages, keeping civilization from tearing itself apart. Through all of that time, one man or woman has led our group, advised by the other members but nonetheless acting with complete authority."

Selina couldn't help but ask, "What changed?"

Kathryn sighed. "A man took power of our organization, a cruel, vile man. You ask if our group killed your parents," she said, stopping and taking Selina's hand in her own. "Yes, we did. But it was his decision, not ours. We warned him of what would happen, of how turning on our own would only bring about destruction, but he didn't listen."

Selina yanked her hand away. "One of your own?" she asked, her pulse starting to quicken. "What do you–"

Kathryn sighed again, remorse and regret apparent in her eyes. "There is something you should see."

She wheeled off down the hallway and Selina followed, if a little hesitantly. They walked and walked, passing dozens of portraits until they reached several that looked brand new. Kathryn suddenly stopped, pointing a long, bony finger at one of the paintings.

Selina shook her head in utter disbelief. He was wearing a mask, but she knew who it was. She'd never forget those eyes.

"Selina…" Kathryn started, placing a tentative hand on her arm. She didn't pull away this time. "Your father was a great man. He believed that we could change Gotham, protect it from its inevitable destruction. And he died for it."

Selina was speechless. In the past few hours, her entire world had been turned on its head. It felt like everything was falling into place while simultaneously falling to pieces.

Kathryn waited silently until Selina finally asked, "Who was he, the man who killed my father?"

Kathryn shook her head. "We don't speak his name here. None of us are proud of what we did, what we _didn't_ do." She sighed, suddenly looking decades older. "We should have moved against him after your father was killed, but we didn't. Turning against our own would only destroy us, ruin Gotham. Then…the Indian Hill escape occurred on his watch, and he was removed."

"Is he dead?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

"No," Kathryn said gravely. "But he wishes he could be." She took Selina's hand, saying, "I am truly sorry we could not contact you sooner. We have nothing but the best intentions for this city, and for _you_."

"So…" Selina started slowly. "Does that mean…my parents…"

"Are avenged," Kathryn finished. "Yes. Their killer has received a fate far worse than any death, I guarantee you."

The realization hit her in a crashing wave. It was over. The man who'd shot her parents was dead, and the man who'd hired him was suffering far worse. Her parents were avenged. She almost felt relieved. Her investigation into Indian Hill had scared the man into moving the inmates, allowing the breakout. So, in a way, she'd directly caused his demise. She hadn't pulled the trigger, but she'd loaded the gun.

"Come now, child," Kathryn said. "We have other things to discuss."

Selina followed her back down the hallway and into the main room, taking the seat directly next to her rather than halfway down the table like she had originally been.

Kathryn started, "So, do you understand now? That our organization, in its current state, is not to blame."

Selina nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. But there are other things…"

"Such as?" Kathryn asked.

"Bruce Kyle," Selina stated, looking around the room again for a man dressed in black. "Is he…"

Kathryn shook her head. "I'm sorry, Selina. All will be explained, eventually. I am truly sorry for our secrecy, but everything we have been doing has been to protect you."

"I don't need protection," Selina said quickly.

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, Selina, I can see that now. So, I will make you a deal: if you agree to cease your investigations into our group, we will ensure the safety of you, your butler, and the boy. You would be under our wing of protection, all three of you."

Selina thought it over. If everything Kathryn had said was true, if none of them were inherently responsible for her parents' deaths, then what would be the point of investigating them further in the first place? And if Bruce and Alfred's safety could be ensured for no real cost, then what was the harm? What was the price? But there had to be one. Nothing was free, especially not something like this. But would the price be worth it?

She sighed and slowly nodded. "I accept your offer."

Kathryn smiled. "I'm happy to hear that, truly. But before you go, there is something I want you to have." She held out her hand and a man in black appeared from the shadows. Selina hadn't even realized he was there. The man handed her one of the white owl masks, and then turned and vanished into the shadows again.

Kathryn placed the mask on the table in front of Selina. "This was your fathers," she said. "He wore it with pride. And hopefully, when you're ready, you'll wear it, too. Until we meet again, Selina Wayne."

A hand clamped down on her mouth and everything went black, again.

* * *

When she woke up, she was back in her bed at the Manor. She slowly sat up, looking around the room. She reached for her sleeve and found that her knife had been returned, exactly where she kept it.

She scanned the room several times, searching for signs of a break-in. Yet, everything was where it was supposed to be.

Other than the white owl mask on her nightstand. She heard footsteps bustling down the hallway. On instinct, she grabbed the mask and shoved it into the nightstand drawer, closing it just as the doors slammed open.

"SELINA!?" Alfred yelled, charging into her bedroom with a panicked expression. "Oh, thank God," he said, wrapping his arms around her. She could feel him shaking.

She hugged him and patted him on the back, saying, "I'm fine, Alfred, I'm okay."

"What happened? Where did they take you?"

"A woman named Kathryn wanted to talk to me," she said.

"About?"

Selina took a deep breath. "She said their group wasn't responsible for my parents' deaths. That they'd been under the control of a bad man, that he'd been responsible for everything. They said…they said my father was one of them." She looked up at Alfred whose gaze had dropped to the floor. "Did you know?"

Alfred shook his head. "I had my suspicions, but no. I did not know."

Selina sighed. "They gave me a deal: I stop investigating them in exchange for their protection. I-I took it."

Alfred nodded. "Are you okay?"

Selina shook her head slowly. "I don't know. It's…it's over. All of it." She looked up at Alfred. "What happens now?"

Alfred sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders. "That is entirely up to you. What would you like to do?"

She blinked hard. Her entire world had just come to a screeching halt. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? Wasn't this the peak of the hill she'd spent the last three years of her life climbing? She'd spent _three years_ dreaming of this day.

And not once had she stopped to think of what she'd do when it came.

"However, I think I know where you should start," Alfred started. "Call him."

Selina looked up slowly, her eyes rapidly changing from confusion to a suppressed rage. "Yes, Alfred. I think I will call him." She quickly stood up and marched down the hallway to the kitchen phone, leaving a very, very confused Alfred behind. "He has a lot of explaining to do…"

She reached into her back pocket, pulling out the slip of paper with Bruce's phone number on it. She typed it in and waited, tapping her foot rapidly. It only rang for a few seconds before going straight to voicemail, Bruce's voice saying, "Can't talk right now, leave a message after–"

Selina slammed the phone down, not bothering to finish listening to the recorded message.

She took a deep breath. She needed to calm down. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Had he ever failed her?

Well…yes. Several times. But he hadn't done it recently.

She dialed the phone number for the Gym, where Bruce had lived for most of his childhood. As it rang, she prayed that he would be there. If he was in the ring, he wouldn't have had his phone on him. That would explain why he hadn't picked up earlier.

The phone rang and rang and finally it picked up, but it wasn't Bruce on the other end. It wasn't Ted either, although it sounded like him.

"Henry Grant Boxing Gym, how can I help you?" a gruff, deep voice asked.

Selina did a double-take. "Um…hi. Is Bruce Kyle there?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. Who is this?"

"I'm his friend, Selina," she answered. "Do you know where he is?"

"No idea," Henry barked. "He moved out months ago."

Selina blinked a few times. Why hadn't Bruce mentioned that? "Okay…do you know where he is? Who did he move in with?"

"Some friend of his. Had an odd sort of name, Silver or Platinum or–"

"Sterling?" Selina asked.

"Yeah, that's the one. Why do you–?"

"Thank you," Selina interrupted, abruptly hanging up the phone and marching off down the hall.

Alfred had emerged from her room, slowly walking towards her. "Everything alright?" he asked.

Selina curtly nodded, quickly saying, "Fine. Can you drive me into the city?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because my options are you or a taxi," she stated. "And most cabbies can't give change for a hundred."

Alfred sighed. "Alright. Would you like a snack before we–?"

Selina was already halfway down the hallway, going into her room and slamming the door before he could finish.

She went to her closet and pulled on the outfit she'd worn to the Narrows the day prior, switching her grey fleece jacket for a leather one. She pulled up her hood and perched her welding goggles on top of it. She'd blend in fine in the Narrows.

She walked back to her bedroom door, but paused, remembering the owl mask she'd shoved in her nightstand drawer. She removed it, running back to her closet. She pulled the carpet off to the side and removed a loose floorboard. She used to keep her street clothes there so Alfred wouldn't throw them out. She placed the owl mask inside and put the board back, pulling the carpet over it.

Could she tell Alfred about the mask, Kathryn's real offer? Would that count as breaking their deal?

She sighed, relenting that she'd tell Alfred eventually. This was all still too new. She'd learn the fine details of their agreement as she went along.

But in the meantime, she had a monster hunter to find.

* * *

Alfred let her out at the Narrows, making her promise to stay safe. She said that she'd try. He promised that he'd be a few block away at the most, and told her to call him if anything went wrong. Selina nodded and he drove off.

She wished she didn't have to lie to him, but she knew for a fact that things were going to go wrong, especially with where she was going.

Of the people she knew in the Narrows, Zee hadn't been around for a long time, she didn't know Bruce's friend Floyd very well, and Ted was off at the GCPD. But there was one more. And desperate times called for desperate measures. She walked north towards the Flea.

It was time for her to have a chat with Jack Napier.

* * *

Nothing had changed in the mall since she'd first arrived in the Narrows, three years earlier. Old couches were strewn about the room, low rock music was blaring over the speakers, towards the back were rows and rows of dingy, ragged clothes, with a couple of nice items sprinkled about. She walked past all of it, heading towards the back staircase.

Jack's office was several stories up, the balcony looking out over the large room that made up the street mall. There was no door to his office, no security, no one had even questioned her. But then again, who would want to cross him? He was just skin and bones, but he had a vicious streak that would've landed anyone in Blackgate for life. That is, anyone who wasn't Jack Napier. If she didn't hate him so much, she'd be impressed by his ability to remain in power. He'd somehow maintained control of the Flea through Falcone and Maroni's war, Penguin's first rule, Gilzean's short-lived regime, and Penguin's second rule. Through all of it, he'd correctly picked which side to take in every fight.

His hair had gotten longer, cascading over his face and shoulders. It was greasy and matted against his scalp, a single strand of it hanging down in his face. His eyes were dark and sunken, his gaze transfixed on the documents and folders scattered across the desk.

She cleared her throat expectantly and his eyes shot up from the papers.

A long, wicked smile crept across his face. "Selina Wayne…wow," he muttered. "Been a while."

She gave a restrained smile. "Yes. It has."

A moment of silence passed before Jack slammed a small, black notebook shut and stuffed it away in his jacket. "Where are my manners? Please, have a seat."

"I'm fine, thanks," Selina told him, her feet remaining firmly planted to where she stood. "I need a favor."

He nodded. "Of course. Anything for a friend."

Selina winced slightly, slowly responding, "If you see Bruce around, can you tell him I'm looking for him? It's not a big deal, he just…said he'd call me and he never did."

Jack tilted his head to the side. "Interesting…" he muttered. "You don't think something happened to him, do you? I mean, his 'new job' is not one for the faint of heart. Has he told you about it?" he asked, his demeanor and tone suggesting there was something she didn't know.

Her jaw clenched. Jack was a creep. He would do anything to try and rile her up. He was just trying to get a rise out of her.

Yet…she was curious.

"You mean him hunting down Strange's monsters?" she asked in an unassuming tone.

Jack smiled, slowly shaking his head. "No. I meant the other one."

Selina's hand absently drifted towards her sleeve. "What 'other one'?" she asked, taking a step towards Jack.

He studied her for a few moments, a sinister glint in his cold eyes. Selina stared back. She wasn't gonna back down to this creep, not if he knew something that she didn't. She'd faced a hell of a lot worse than Jack Napier. Still, her blood was boiling.

Finally, he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. He looked out over the Flea and shrugged, casually saying, "Oh, they're just rumors, the jobs he's done. The _things_ he's done." He chuckled and she felt her pulse start to quicken. "Now, I'm not one for rumors, but some of them, well…they're pretty damn convincing."

Selina snapped.

In one swift movement, she leapt over the table, roughly took a fistful of his collar, and pressed her knife up to his throat. "Tell me," she hissed.

Jack hadn't even flinched. In fact, he seemed amused. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "It's not my place to say."

"I'll kill you if you don't," she snarled.

Jack gave her another long, wicked smile. He blatantly looked her up and down, musing, "My, my, someone grew up, didn't they?"

She pressed the knife down harder.

He rolled his eyes. "Like I said, they're just rumors. But I did hear he was working for someone in the Underworld."

"Penguin?" she asked. Bruce had worked for Penguin on and off again for almost two years.

Jack shook his head. "Nah. _Supposedly_ he's working for someone a hell of a lot worse than Cobblepot."

"Who?"

"Never got a name," he said. "Never asked. But, like I said, they're just rumors. And if you don't believe me, why don't you ask him? Don't you trust him?"

Selina glared at him. She had half a mind to split his throat open like a geyser right then and there. But she had to let him go. Killing him now wouldn't do her any good. She reluctantly slid her knife back into her sleeve, whipped around and stalked off.

Jack rubbed his neck, shouting as she left, "Can't wait till next time, Kitty-Cat!"

Selina ignored him, storming out of the street mall with her gaze set far in front of her. Her mind was going a mile a minute. What 'new job' had Jack been talking about? Was Jack lying? Was Bruce lying? What kind of rumors were floating about? Were they true? If they were true, then why hadn't Bruce told her?

To be honest, the worst part of the whole thing wasn't the possibility of him being some masked body-guard/assassin for a shady group that controlled Gotham. She didn't care about that. The worst part of it all was the possibility of him lying to her.

They didn't lie to each other. They just didn't. Not after all that they'd gone through.

Her feet unconsciously carried her out of the building and onto the streets. She was paying no mind to where she was going, walking straight through people if they didn't get out of her way.

Then, someone grabbed her arm, pulling her from her semi-conscious state. She whipped around, reaching for her knife. A yell of defiance died in her throat.

Bruce was staring back at her, waving his free hand in front of her face.

"Hello?" he asked. "Earth to Cat? You okay?"

She blinked a few times, not entirely sure if what she was seeing was real. She took note of the long scar stretching from his ring-finger knuckle down his wrist. It disappeared into his jacket sleeve, but she knew the mark went all the way to his elbow. Speaking of his jacket, it was the same one she'd seen him wearing the day prior. It seemed a bit more beat up and battered than it'd been only twenty four hours earlier. The same thing went for Bruce, himself. His face and hands were dirty and he had a light scrape on his neck, not deep enough to draw blood but visible nonetheless. Contrasting his appearance, his lips had a slight uptake and his dimples were starting to appear in his cheeks. The whites of his eyes were tinged pink and underneath them were dark circles. His brow was slightly furrowed and his body language posed one big, obvious question: 'What are you doing here?'

Everything she saw in him, from his casual demeanor to his battered appearance, seemed to contradict everything she'd been assuming over the past minute.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, removing his hand from her arm.

Selina blinked several times, her brain seeming to shut down when she needed it the most. "Um…I…you…um…" she spluttered. What was she supposed to say? Finally, she took a deep breath, crossed her arms and stuck out her hip, complaining in her best winy-teenage-girl voice, "You said you'd call me."

He smiled sheepishly, scratching the scruff of his neck. "Yeah, sorry about that. A friend needed my help on a job. I just got back, actually."

"From where?" she asked a little too quickly.

He gave her a wary look and slowly replied, "Bludhaven."

Selina knew she needed to rein it in, but her head was too all over the place to care. "What were you doing?"

Bruce chuckled slightly as his eyes dropped to the ground. He shook his head, saying, "Details aren't worth going into. I'm sorry I didn't call. I should've let you know. It just slipped my mind. We were out all night and into the morning."

She wanted more details on this 'job' he was talking about, but everything else seemed to signal that he was telling the truth. And he certainly wasn't acting like he'd seen her see him kidnapping her.

A million explanations started running through her mind at a mile a minute, each one crazier than the last. She stopped herself somewhere between Bruce sleep-walking or him being brainwashed.

Something bad was happening. She could feel it. Bruce, or someone who looked scarily similar to Bruce, had fought Alfred and abducted her last night. Yet, the main suspect was standing right across from her, claiming that he'd been in Bludhaven all night working with a friend. All evidence seemed to point towards that being true.

The person who'd attacked her hadn't been wearing Bruce's jacket, so if it had been Bruce who'd attacked her then when and how had that happened to the jacket? And it wasn't like they'd fought outside in the dirt and mud. They'd fought in the Manor, and it'd been a pretty one-sided affair at that.

There were too many loose ends missing to conclude Bruce had been the one who'd abducted her.

So, she wouldn't bring it up. She didn't have enough information to make a logical conclusion. Based on the data she currently had, there were too many holes and leaps of faith to guarantee a single answer, the real answer.

Selina nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, you look like shit. You want me to walk you home?"

Bruce shrugged, chuckling. "Sure thing, Cat. Are we going street-level or rooftop?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that even a real question?" she asked as she took off towards the nearest fire escape. "Race you?" she called, already halfway up the first ladder.

He smiled, jogging after her. "Loser buys dinner?"

"Of course," she replied, picking up her pace as she saw Bruce increase his.

She didn't know what was going on with him. She didn't know what was going on with the mysterious group that ran Gotham. Until she _did_ know about such things, she'd just have to sit back and watch.

She'd get to the bottom of this, no matter the cost.

Bruce Kyle was at stake.

 **A/N: Sorry for the longer-than-normal delay between chapters, but a lot has been going on this past week and a half. I've been taking this time to hammer out some of the final details in the plotline for Season 3, and now that that's finally finished I can really start picking up the pace. Season 3 won't be nearly as long as Season 2 was, but there will be a lot of my own original ideas rather than just alternate retellings of the canon events. In fact, most of the back-half of this Season is original, especially since I just recently realized that my original Joker character has barely had any time in the spotlight and he's supposed to pull the No Man's Land event in just two seasons time. To aid this character growth, I'm going to write a completely Jack Napier-centric chapter in the near future (which will be the first time in this series that I've written a perspective character besides Bruce or Selina). You'll get to see some of what he's been planning, in particular what was in that small, black notebook he tucked away in his jacket.**

 **But that'll all reveal itself in due time. I hope you enjoyed and, if you did or have any comments/questions/concerns, please make sure to Review! Your feedback means the world to me. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **Side note: I may randomly go back to the earliest chapters of this series and rewrite them to get them up to par with the new chapters. If I do, I'll publish them on the same day as a new chapter so you won't get a fake update alert. Just wanted to give y'all a heads up.**


	35. Bludhaven

**A/N: So in hindsight, I primarily wrote Bruce-centric chapters throughout Season 1 and Selina-centric chapters throughout Season 2 (as the events of their respective seasons revolved directly around them). This Season, however, the plot follows them both, so there'll be a mix of both Bruce and Selina perspectives.**

 **In fact, this chapter is a retelling of the events that led up to their meeting at the end of the last chapter, just from Bruce's perspective. (Also, there's a bit of a continuity error in these past three chapters: Bruce and Selina first meet up in Chapter 33 in the** **afternoon** **, they get food around five or six, and Bruce leaves the diner around eight. Just wanted to clarify)**

 **So here's Chapter 35 of** _ **Roles Reversed**_ **. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Bludhaven**

Bruce stared at the beautiful girl sitting opposite to him. She'd changed so much over six months, so much so that he almost missed the little girl he'd first met at Wayne Manor. Well…almost. Three years earlier, they would've both died of embarrassment had they attempted to have a meal together, just the two of them. They'd changed so much in that time. They'd practically grown up together. So yeah, he missed the good old days, but nowadays was pretty great, too.

Over the past two hours, they'd talked about anything and everything; Ted's new job, Bruce's new job, Selina's talk with the Board of Directors, Alfred's thoughts on everything, Selina's school and whatever else they could think of. He loved every second of it. Sure, he'd grown up a lot over the past six months, too, but it'd been without her, making the growth far less fun.

Then, she got really serious, saying that the people she'd threatened were dangerous. He had to stop himself from laughing at the thought. Sure, they were probably legitimately dangerous, but so was he. He made some sarcastic remark about how he was always careful. She put her hand on his, telling him to be serious.

He forced the smile off his face and nodded, saying that he would be.

Then, his phone went off.

He moved his hand off of Selina's and reached for his jacket, not noticing the rapid internal struggle that flashed in her eyes. He removed his phone, flipping it open and reading a text.

He sighed, closing the phone and sliding it into his pocket. He grabbed his jacket that was strewn over the booth and went to stand up, telling her, "I have to go."

"What's that?" she asked, staring at the interior of the jacket.

He knew what she was talking about, his dagger hidden away at the base of the coat. As he pulled it on, he quickly explained the knife away, saying, "I did a job for a guy. It was part of the reward." He turned the topic away from his weapon, asking, "What about you? You still have your knife?"

She gave a small smile, halfway removing her switchblade from her sleeve. "Never leave home without it."

He grinned, leaning over the table and saying, "Atta girl," before planting a light kiss on her temple, discreetly dropping a twenty dollar bill on the table. He hated leaving her here, but this was important. "I'll call you later," he said. "We can hang out or something."

She smiled, the warmth of it seeping into him. "Okay. I'd like that."

He nodded and walked off, waiting until he was far out of earshot before dialing a number and raising the phone to his ear. It only rang for a moment before the other end picked up.

"What's up?" he asked.

Jean replied, "I got a text from Talia. She wants me to meet her at South Union Station, said you could come too if you want."

"South Union?" Bruce asked. "Where are we going?"

Jean chuckled darkly. "Bludhaven."

"Why the hell would we go to Bludhaven?"

"She didn't tell me, just that it was 'highly important and highly dangerous'. You in?"

Bruce scoffed. "You had me at highly dangerous. I'll bring my hood."

He hung up and started towards the nearest fire escape ladder, scaling up to the rooftops in a matter of seconds. He ran for a few blocks, eventually coming across an old air conditioner unit on the roof of a low-income apartment complex. He lifted the lid off and reached inside, dodging the broken blades and grabbing a sack hidden underneath. From the bag he removed a long, black cloak and an extra pair of brass knuckles. He put the sack back in the AC unit, rolling the cloak up and stuffing it into his back pocket.

He ran for a few more minutes, eventually reaching the South Union train station where he found Jean and Talia waiting outside.

Besides getting a bit taller and bulkier, Jean hadn't changed too much through the six months. His light blond hair was short and closely cropped as always. He was wearing a black v-neck, leather jacket, and dark jeans, sharply contrasted by a pair of white sneakers. He wore a few silver and gold chain bracelets, accompanied by a silver ring on his left middle finger (which he seemed to never take off). He looked like any normal teenage guy, other than the empty scabbard hanging at his waist.

Talia was a completely different story. Although he'd previously seen her wearing clothes befitting of a sixteen year old, she seemed to be going for more of an army-ranger meets goth meets medieval-knight kind of look. She'd already pulled on her cloak, just barely hiding her black body armor. She wore padded black pants, almost resembling a football player, and black combat boots, her long black hair braided down her back. She was tapping her foot impatiently, her cold expression remaining the exact same when she saw him coming down the nearby fire escape.

"You're late," she stated icily.

Bruce smirked. "Well hello to you, too, sunshine."

She rolled her eyes. "The train leaves in ten minutes. Do you even have your gear?"

"That's why I was late," he remarked. "And if you'd given me more than a five minute notice, I would've been early."

"You're just lucky to be here, Kyle. You're not even a member of the League."

"Oh really?" he started, keeping his voice light and unassuming. "Then why did you invite me?"

Her face went bright pink and she whipped around, marching inside the station without another word.

Jean finally let out a laugh he'd been struggling to hold back. "If I did that, she would kill me. Literally."

Bruce shrugged. "I'm not a member of the League," he repeated. "Her princess status doesn't mean shit to me."

"Speaking of princesses…" he started, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bruce rolled his eyes, starting after Talia. "What about them?" he asked, knowing very well what Jean meant.

"How was your date with Selina? Or should I say 'Miss Wayne'?" he mocked.

Bruce scoffed. "It wasn't a date. We were just–"

Jean cut in, "Getting dinner together, for two hours, just the two of you, after six months apart…"

"Okay. So what? Friends hang out."

"You ran out of the apartment," Jean stated in a flat tone. "You literally ran. You didn't even tell me why and I knew where you were going."

Bruce shook his head. "Whatever. It wasn't a date. Like I said, we're just friends."

Jean nodded. "Oh, yeah, of course. I mean, I always kiss my friends on the forehead after–"

"Were you watching us?!"

"Will you two shut up?!" Talia snapped at them. "People are staring."

"I'm pretty sure they're looking at you, Miss Amazon Warrior," Bruce retorted. She huffed and turned back around, leading them towards their train to Bludhaven. "What are we doing, anyways?" he asked as they boarded.

Talia slumped down into a seat, Bruce and Jean taking the row opposite of her. She waited until the train started to move before removing a blueprint from her bag. She spread it out on the table between them and started, "This is a warehouse on Bludhaven Bay. An auction is being held there tonight," she removed a file from her bag and plopped it down on the table, continuing, "And this guy is gonna be there."

Bruce picked up the file and fingered through it, reading aloud, "Edward Thatch, aka Blackbeard. Extortion, smuggling, piracy, arms-dealing, human-trafficking, arson, torture… Nice guy."

Talia took the file back from him. "He's arriving in Bludhaven tonight, his only stop before going south. He's bringing a very important object with him, something my father wants dearly. We're gonna get it for him."

Bruce nodded. "Okay, that's easy enough. What do you need me for?"

Talia rolled her eyes. "My father is still harboring some false hope that you'll see reason. He made me bring you."

Jean jumped in, optimistically saying, "But having three of us instead of two will make it a lot easier if things go wrong."

"Like they always do," Bruce finished. "So what's the plan?"

* * *

Four hours and a long nap later, their train arrived in Bludhaven. Jean had changed out of his white sneakers into a pair of black combat boots, more fitting for the occasion, and Bruce switched his light green shirt for a black one. This job would go best if they weren't seen.

When they stepped off the train, it was a few minutes to midnight and a drizzle of rain had begun to fall.

Talia led them through the hellhole of a city. If Bruce hadn't lived in Gotham his whole life, he would've been appalled at the state of the town. The streets were almost empty, besides the occasional patrol car or homeless person curled up on a park bench. It was almost similar to Gotham, except for the eerie silence, a sharp contrast to his constantly bustling home.

"Come on," Talia told them, nodding towards an alley. "Let's just do this and get out of here."

Bruce and Jean nodded, quickly ducking into the nearby alleyway. "Should we suit up?" Jean asked.

Talia shrugged. "Might as well."

Jean and Bruce both rolled out their cloaks. Inside Jean's was a European-style, double-edged sword, along with a black helmet, the mask of which was decorated with a dark red cross. He slid his sword into his scabbard, pulled on his helmet, and raised his cloak's hood over his head.

Bruce's roll wasn't filled with weapons or helmet, but a long, black cloth that covered the bottom half of his face. He wrapped it around his face, pulled on his cloak, and raised the hood. He removed a pair of brass knuckles from his pockets and pulled them on, putting his spare pair in his jacket pockets. He reached back into his inner jacket and felt for his dagger, making sure he could draw it cleanly if necessary.

Talia raised her own hood and wrapped a similar black mask around her lower face. She didn't look armed, but Bruce knew she had a pair of twin daggers hidden somewhere in her cloak. However, if he was being honest, she really didn't need them.

When they were done, they looked like a trio of desert wanderers. It was an odd aesthetic given that they were standing around in a back alley of Bludhaven.

Talia started towards the nearest fire escape, scaling it with inhuman speed and agility. Bruce followed suit with Jean, being the largest and least agile of the three of them, simply trying to keep up. They ran across the rooftops of Bludhaven towards the east end of the city, only a mile and a half or so from the train station. They arrived within a few minutes, scaling the roof of the warehouse and dropping inside onto a catwalk through a broken skylight.

The interior of the warehouse was both exactly and the dead opposite of what Bruce expected to find. It was dirty and dingy, the air seemingly filled with a smog of dust and smoke. It seemed just like the rest of the town: broken and run down.

But the people inside were a total different story. About twenty to thirty men and women stood about the room, laughing and shouting, smoking and throwing back beer bottles like they were sodas. Some of them looked like they'd never showered in their life while others wore suits more expensive than anything being sold at the auction. It was such an odd collection of people, yet they seemed to be having a great time.

They were all looking up at a platform towards the front of the room. A man was standing atop it, shouting down at the crowd as they bid. He was the only familiar face in the room.

"Blackbeard," Talia muttered.

Bruce nodded. "What should we do?"

Talia arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so _now_ you're taking my orders."

Bruce shook his head. "No, I just want to hear your plan so I have a starting point to make a better one."

Talia rolled her eyes, scanning the room. There seemed to be four or five major groups of people, all with stacks of their own loot piled up behind them. She muttered a word in a foreign language, and Bruce got the feeling that it wasn't a happy word. She pointed at the pile farthest away from where they crouched. "It got sold already. I was hoping to steal it beforehand…"

"None of them are armed," Jean stated with certainty. "We could throw down some smoke pellets, rush 'em and steal it."

Talia shook her head, not bothering to ask how he knew they weren't armed. She and Bruce typically just took his word for it. "Too messy. My father doesn't want us to be seen if we can help it." She nodded towards the area behind the platform. "It looks like they're almost done. We'll steal it as they leave."

Bruce started "Why not try and sneak it away while–" but his voice caught in his throat.

He didn't continue his thought, so Talia and Jean turned to him. Talia followed his gaze, locked on the stage below them. He was staring at the last two things being sold off.

It was a pair of girls, neither older than sixteen. They were standing on the stage, chains wrapped around their wrists and necks, barely covered and appearing halfway starved to death. Blackbeard leered at them, grabbing one by her hair and pulling her to the front of the stage for the audience to get a better look.

Talia put a firm hand on his shoulder, warning, "Bruce, don't."

Bruce couldn't hear her.

"They aren't the mission," she insisted.

Bruce's gaze snapped from the girls to Talia. She flinched, almost falling backwards out of her crouch. She'd seen that look several times in her life, always right before her father proceeded to wipe out entire civilizations single-handedly.

Rage.

His voice was cold and constricted as he stated, "I'm not in the League. I don't take your orders."

Talia groaned in frustration. "And the only reason you aren't in the League is because you can't take them."

Bruce turned back to the stage. "Like you said, you don't need me for this. You can get whatever your dad wants by yourselves. I'm going after the girls."

Talia sighed. This was a bad idea, but there was no shaking him off of this. "Fine, but make it quick. The train is leaving with or without you."

Bruce watched as Blackbeard finally handed off the girls to a sleazy old man with three slicked back strands of grey hair. He wore a suit that was definitely expensive, but half of his teeth were missing. He looked old and frail, but the three bodyguards standing behind him sure didn't.

Bruce nodded. "I'll be there."

They waited for a few moments, watching as the crowd dispersed and went their separate ways, some groups having to bring in trucks to load their loot. Bruce followed after the two girls, the old man still holding the chain that connected the collars around the girls' necks. His three guards brought up the rear, kicking the girls from behind whenever they started to resist him.

As they exited through a side door, Bruce dropped from the rafters, sliding down a chain to the floor and managing to slip out the door just before it slammed shut. He crept over to a nearby crate and scanned the area, a narrow alley with a single dark van sitting at the end of it. The rain had started falling harder, making the moonless night even darker.

He climbed up into the fire escape and watched as the three guards loaded the girls into the van, the old man and one of the guards climbing in behind them. The other two men slammed the back doors shut and walked towards the front.

As soon as the driver closed his door, Bruce moved.

He dropped to the floor, whipping out his knife and slashing the back tires before returning to his perch in the fire escape. The van started up and the engine revved, but the car stayed in place. The driver stepped out and walked around the cars, checking for what was stalling the vehicle.

His first mistake was walking directly underneath where Bruce was perched. His second mistake was not crying out when Bruce dropped down on top of him. And in Bruce's world, two strikes meant he was out. He silently crumpled to the floor, the back of his head bloodied from where Bruce had hit him.

Bruce dragged the unconscious body around the car, leaving him next to the driver's side door. He ducked underneath the window and circled around the van, crouching up against the grill, hidden from the other guard's view. He waited for almost a whole minute before the other door opened, the second guard muttering something about the first one taking too long.

Bruce rushed him from behind, clamping a hand over his mouth and slamming his head into the brick wall of the alleyway. His eyes rolled back in his head and Bruce let him crumple to the floor.

Two down, one to go.

He circled around to the back of the van, knocking on the left door, the side the third guard had been sitting on. He stepped off to the side, hidden from view.

He heard a whiny, conceited voice (presumably the old, rich guy who'd bought the girls) yell, "What the hell is going on out there?! Why aren't we moving?!"

The door swung open and the third guard stepped out into the rain.

Bruce didn't hesitate, slamming his fist into the man's ribs and throwing a knee into his nose. As the third guard collapsed to the floor, the two girls inside the van screamed. Bruce moved quickly, throwing open the second door and grabbing the old man by his collar.

He cried out in surprise, unable to raise a coherent protest before Bruce threw him out of the van and slammed him down to the wet, muddy pavement. He wheezed in pain, but Bruce didn't stop there.

He removed his brass knuckles from his fists. He wouldn't need them to do this.

He stepped over the man, putting his knee on his chest and glaring down at him. There was true fear in his eyes.

Bruce reared back, raising his fist high before plummeting it down at the man's face. He did it again, and again, and again, and again. Thirty seconds later, the man barely resembled his former self, his lips both busted, his thin, pale skin stained with blood, his nose bending far too many different directions, but Bruce kept hitting him.

The man started muttering something as Bruce beat him, and it wasn't until he'd hit him well over a dozen times that he finally understood what the man was asking for.

"Mercy…" he pleaded, holding his hands up near his head in surrender. "Please, mercy…mercy…"

Bruce blinked, pausing mid-strike. He stared down at the man's broken, mutilated face.

"Mercy?" Bruce asked, his voice quiet.

"Please…" the man wheezed. "Just take the whores. They're yours. But please have mercy."

Bruce glanced up at the van. He saw the two girls huddled together in the back, utterly terrified. This man had tried to buy them, to violate them. This man had done this to them, and now he was trying to sell them to him to save himself?

No. Someone like him, someone who preyed on the weak...someone like him didn't deserve mercy.

Bruce raised the knife in the air. He hadn't even realized he was holding it.

Without a second thought, he plunged the knife down.

Everything slowed down. He saw the man's monstrosity of a face, the glint of the dagger's metal in the little light in the alleyway, the wet, muddy pavement that so closely resembled another alleyway...

The blade's tip struck the pavement. The man screamed as the dagger skewered his hand.

"No…" Bruce muttered as the man writhed in pain. The only sound Bruce could hear was his racing pulse. He pulled the dagger out of the ground and slid it back into his coat. He silently stood up and stepped over the man, his heart slamming around in his chest as he approached the van.

What had he just done?

He'd been half a second from putting the knife straight through the man's eye.

What was he thinking?

What if he'd done it?

He was half a second away from becoming a murderer.

He stopped at the entrance to the van. The two girls were still cowering in fear, their eyes large and terror-filled like wild animals, frantically searching for a way to escape.

But of course they were horrified, they'd just witnessed a masked figure beat a man within an inch of his life with nothing his bare hands. Who wouldn't be terrified?

Bruce pulled back his hood and lowered his mask, raising his hands to show that he was no threat. "Hi," he started slowly, his voice almost strained. "What are your names?" No response. "Are you okay?" Once again, no response. The girls stayed curled up in the corner, their eyes nervously darting between each other and Bruce.

Bruce sighed, muttering, "Hell with it," and stepping into the van. He grabbed onto the chain connecting the two girls' collars and fiddled with the lock the best he could. It was difficult with two terrified girls (who he was pretty sure couldn't speak English) trying to scramble away from him. Finally, he managed to pick the lock, opening it and dragging the chain out of their collars. He threw it out into the muddy streets, stepping out of the van and beckoning them to follow him. "Come on," he soothed. "It's going to be alright. You're safe now."

It took a few minutes, but the girls eventually seemed to realize that he wasn't there to hurt them. The taller of the two took the other by the hand and they slowly got out of the van. Bruce grabbed two of the bodyguard's jackets off of their unconscious bodies and handed them to the girls, having them cover themselves from the rain.

With a lot of patience and at a reasonable distance, Bruce managed to escort them out of the alleyway to a bus stop just across the street. He had them sit down under the awning as he called 911, telling them the situation. When the 911 operator asked who he was, he abruptly hung up.

He did his best to explain what was going to happen, how the police were going to arrive and take them to the precinct, how they'd be safe there. The taller one kept nodding and talking to the shorter, younger-looking one in a different language, so Bruce hoped they understood.

When he started to hear the sirens, Bruce gave them a small bow and ran off, disappearing up a fire escape and onto the rooftops. He watched from a distance as the two girls were wrapped in blankets, a female officer aiding them into a cruiser. A few more officers went into the alleyway, returning to their cars with the thugs in tow.

Bruce turned and ran off, crossing the town slower than he had half an hour ago. He kept reminding himself that he'd done the right thing. He'd saved those girls. That was all that mattered.

But how close had he come to killing that guy? Did the ends justify the means?

When he crossed that line, when he killed, he'd be just like them. A murderer.

But he hadn't crossed the line. He'd stopped himself. If all went right, that man would never see the light of day outside a prison cell again. And the only two people who'd seen Bruce's face had been the two girls he'd rescued. His mission had been a complete success.

So why was he eating himself up over it? What had he done wrong?

He sighed, dropping down into the alley where they'd first ascended to the rooftops. He pulled off his cloak and mask, rolling them up and stuffing them into his back pocket.

He walked across the street towards the train station, buying a ticket for the last train back to Gotham.

It was over. He was going home, and as were those two girls he'd just saved.

* * *

Half an hour later, Talia and Jean, soaked and muddied from the rain, entered the station. They were carrying a long, wooden crate between them. Talia glared him down as Bruce approached. He reached out to take the crate from her and she practically dropped it, forcing him to scramble to keep the crate from clambering to the ground.

"How was your mission?" she asked bitterly, blazing past him towards the train.

Bruce looked up and Jean, who shook his head violently. He sent a clear message: Not a good time to mess with Talia.

Like hell.

He responded cheerfully, "It went well, thanks for asking. How about yours? You didn't need my help, did you?"

Talia turned on her heel and within milliseconds there was a knife at his throat. "Shut. Up," she hissed, whipping back around and continuing towards the train as if nothing had happened.

Jean gave him another look, as if saying, 'Don't say I didn't warn you.'

Bruce shrugged. "Well, you got the box, so good job, Talia." She seemed to falter in her next step.

Jean slowly started, "Yeah it was…interesting, to say the least. Let's just say the guy who'd bought this _really_ wanted it." He nodded down to his empty scabbard. "They fought like devils. How about yours?"

As they boarded the train, retaking their seats from earlier, Bruce chuckled. "None of his guards even saw me. But he sure did."

"Did you kill him?" Jean asked.

Talia cut in, "Of course he didn't. He can't."

"And I won't," Bruce agreed, his voice going a bit louder than he'd meant it to be.

Talia shook her head, sighing, "Bruce, one day you will see that we are right, and it will be too late."

"And that day sure as hell ain't today," Bruce replied firmly.

She rolled her eyes, turning to look out the window as the train started moving.

Bruce nodded to the crate, asking Jean, "So, what was it that her dad wanted so bad?"

Jean went to open the crate, but Talia's hand slammed it shut, her dark eyes fiery with forewarning. "Don't touch them. Especially not you two."

"Why?" Jean asked.

"Because they'll disembody the impure soul," she replied, completely straight-faced.

Bruce had to force himself not to laugh. "What does that even mean?"

Talia groaned, as if they were the ones talking ludicrously. "If you touch them and you're impure of heart, they'll kill you immediately. So, you can look, but don't touch."

"Okay, mom," Bruce replied sarcastically, nodding for her to remove her hand. She did so and Jean slowly opened the lid.

Inside were a pair of swords. They looked like scimitars, just shorter and with a very European-style hilt with a cross design. The blades were identical, the only difference being the blue gem on one and the yellow gem on the other, yet they felt so different.

Bruce's hand impulsively reached out to touch the one with the blue gem.

Talia slammed the crate shut, removing it from the table and setting it down next to her without another word.

Bruce glanced over at Jean. He'd also reached out to touch one of the swords, the one with the yellow gemstone.

Bruce dropped his hand, trying to act as though nothing had happened. But his head was racing. One question came to the forefront of his mind. He looked at Talia and asked, "What were those things?"

She kept her gaze outside the train's window, working her jaw side to side. Finally, she answered, "My father called them the Sword of Sin and the Sword of Salvation. They used to belong to a warrior named–"

"Azrael," Jean finished, his eyes wide. His hand was still in the air where he'd reached out for the yellow-gemmed sword. "They belonged to Azrael. They were given to him by the Order of St. Dumas."

"The Order? But didn't Ra's help you kill them all?" he asked Jean. No answer. He turned to Talia, asking, "What would your father want with those?"

Talia's gaze was still locked on the outside world, but Bruce could see the frustration in her eyes. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

 **A/N: Sorry on the delay for this chapter. School is utter chaos right now and I got pretty sick this weekend and a lot was going on, so that you for your patience. I promise that next chapter you'll get to see more Bruce/Selina stuff, but I have big plans for the two of them, and now with the Swords of Sin and Salvation thrown into the mix, what'll happen next? Find out next time on Dragon B– *cough cough* Sorry, I don't know where that came from.**

 **But in all seriousness, thank you for continuing on this journey with me. It honestly means the world. So I hope you enjoyed and if you did or have any comments/questions/concerns, please make sure to Review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**

 **Also disclaimer: BrucexTalia will not be a thing in this story. I had multiple people PM me about that. Don't worry, I'm not pulling another Zee or Sterling. This season is about Bruce and Selina's initial romantic relationship, or at least their attempts at one. Just wanted to clarify.**


	36. New Dawn Rising

**A/N: Yeah, so this chapter is definitely coming out late. Let me tell you about my week. Monday: a thousand assignments due for no apparent reason. Tuesday: two chapter tests the day before finals + performing in a graduation ceremony. Wednesday: first two exams (the easiest of the bunch) + doing a Greatest Showman lip-sync performance where I'm playing PT Barnum and I still don't have the costume. Thursday: Math exam, enough said. Friday: Science and Spanish exams (aka actual suicide). Then I'm free! So yeah, I have absolutely no idea when this will come out even though writing this chapter is the only thing I actually want to do this week, but so if life for us student-writers. Now I'm gonna stop my wining and actually talk about something I enjoy:**

 **I don't read as many** _ **Gotham**_ **stories on here as I used to since I don't want to intentionally/unintentionally steal other peoples' ideas, but I happened to glance over at the main forum for** _ **Gotham**_ **stories and almost every single one of them were either BatCat or Season 6.**

 **I love this fandom so much.**

 **And once again, sorry for the wait. I know the last chapter barely had any Bruce/Selina interactions, but that effectively ends here. So here's Chapter 36 of** _ **Roles Reversed**_ **. Hope you enjoy!**

 **New Dawn Rising**

Bruce's eyes shot open, his breath rapid and panicked. He frantically looked around his unfamiliar surroundings, searching for the source of the gunshot, but his setting was very different from what he'd thought it was, from what he'd just been seeing.

There'd been a man clad in black standing in an alleyway, holding up a small family of a father, mother and daughter. The night was cold and wet, the moon just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. The little moonlight that filled the alley glinted off of the man's pistol, the barrel of which was trained on the father's chest. The little girl was cowering behind her parents, her sparkling green eyes wide with horror. The father calmly complied with the attacker's demands, first handing over his wallet, then the lady's purse, and then her pearl necklace. The woman's hands were trembling violently as she reached around to unclasp the heirloom. A strand broke and pearls went everywhere.

Bruce had seen this scene a thousand times before. He knew how it ended.

But this one, this viewing of the scene, was different. Whenever he relived the memory of that night, he always saw it from one of three perspectives: either from the child's eyes, from his own eyes as he cowered in a nearby fire escape, or from the eyes of someone else, someone who would protect the family from what was about to happen, often at the cost of his own life.

Bruce was none of them.

This time, he was standing across from the family, a gun in his hand. He reached out to grab the woman's necklace, and sneered down at the child as she tugged at her father's pant leg.

When the job was done, he fired the gun once, and then again. He lowered the gun to level with the girl's head.

And he fired.

Instantly, Bruce's eyes fluttered open. His heart was racing. He searched frantically, wanting to know the fate of the little girl, yet knowing very well what would've happened had he not awoken in time.

He'd fired the shot.

Bruce looked up, noticing his two companions for the first time. Jean was still out cold, leaning against the window with a sliver of drool running down his chin. Talia on the other hand was staring dead at him, her eyes cold and piercing. He got the feeling she knew exactly what he'd just done, the horrible crime he'd committed.

Yet she said nothing, silently returning her gaze to the world speeding by the train.

Bruce wiped at his eyes, trying to chase the nightmare away. He took a deep breath and croaked, "Where are we?"

Talia simply nodded out the window and Bruce followed her gaze. He saw Gotham, dawn just breaking over the horizon, lighting the skyline a golden orange. He sometimes forgot how beautiful a place his home could be. It wasn't all gang wars and criminals, there were good things about it too, good people. Speaking of which, a jolt from the train shook Jean awake.

In six months, he'd become better friends with Jean than anyone else in his life (besides Selina and Ted of course, but they were in a category of their own). When he dropped his tough exterior, he was actually a really good guy. Was he flawed? Yes. Was he occasionally a homicidal maniac, especially when it came to the Order of St. Dumas? Yes. But everyone had their shortcomings, and in his line of work Jean's crusade was nowhere near the worst thing one of his friends/acquaintances had done.

That spot undoubtedly went to Jack.

Jean stretched out his back and neck, groaning, "Good morning." He cocked an eyebrow, studying Talia's sunken eyes. "Did you sleep at all?"

She shook her head, keeping her eyes trained outside. " _Someone_ had to stay awake to keep this safe," she said irritably, patting the crate next to her. Through a massive yawn, she continued, "And I sure as hell wasn't letting either of you watch it."

Bruce and Jean both dropped their gazes to the floorboards. She'd told them both what would happen were they to touch the swords in the crate, how they'd kill anyone who was impure of heart. Bruce didn't think he was an angel by any means, as demonstrated by his actions back in Bludhaven. But he wasn't some mass-murdering lunatic like Talia's father, and if Bruce couldn't touch one without being killed, what chance did someone like Ra's al Ghul have? If the swords really were holy, he'd be vaporized on the spot just by looking at them.

The train came to a screeching halt. Talia stood up first, scooping up the long crate in her arms and shuffling off, refusing to let Bruce or Jean help hold it. They followed suit, flanking her on either side as they made their way back into the city.

Bruce let out a sigh of relief as the distinct, nauseating smog hit his nostrils. He was home. He could put everything that'd happened in Bludhaven behind him, like a bad dream.

"What now?" he asked Talia. "Do I need to go back with you to debrief, or…"

She glanced at him, then Jean, and then back at his, slowly shaking her head. "No. You can do whatever. If my dad needs you, well, I know where to find you."

He nodded, asking Jean. "Speaking of which, are you going back to the apartment?"

Jean shook his head. "I'm gonna go out of town for a while, actually. There are some things I want to look into," he said, sending a sideways glance at the crate in Talia's arms. "I'll walk you back," he told her.

She nodded. "Fine." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think it goes without saying that neither of you are to mention what happened tonight to anyone." She gave Bruce a not-so-subtle look.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise I won't tell anyone," adding, "not even Selina."

Talia gave a slow nod, clearly still unconvinced. "Right. Anyways, we should get going. Good work tonight, Bruce."

He blinked a few times, not entirely sure if he'd heard her right. Had she just…complimented him? The thought alone was scarier than anything else he'd experienced that night. He nodded. "Okay, yeah, you too. I'll see you around, Jean."

Jean nodded, seeming just as confused as Talia and Bruce were. Since when were they able to have a civilized discussion about…well…anything? "Yeah, I shouldn't be long. Try not to do something stupid while I'm gone."

Talia scoffed. "But stupid is what he does best."

And the universe was back in balance.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Whatever. And right back at you, Valley. I can't afford the apartment on my own."

As he walked off, Jean called at him, "Yeah, but your girlfriend sure can."

Bruce flicked him off, turning the corner and heading further into the city.

How many times did he have to say it? Selina wasn't his girlfriend. That was never a thing, nor would it ever be one.

Then, a single question popped up in his mind, and he nearly tripped over air.

Why not?

Well…there were lots of reasons why not. For starters: she was the heiress of Gotham, and he was a street rat. Yet, had that ever stopped them before? She'd taken him to a charity ball where they'd danced in front of everyone, and there'd been no shame in her eyes. Quite the opposite, really, she'd looked at him with pride.

But that was just a job, they were acting.

And what about all the times he'd hurt her? Like when she went out of her way to buy him a new coat for the winter and he'd basically laughed in her face and told her to stop hassling him. Who was to say he wouldn't do something like that again?

The answer was pretty obvious: experience. Experience was who. Those two months without her had been utter hell, and when he'd apologized and she'd forgiven him everything started to go right again. Even when they didn't, he would've rather gone through them with Selina than without her.

Fine, that was a bad example. What about the danger in his work? Jack, Penguin, the League and its enemies, none of them would blink an eye at the thought of hurting her to get to him. Just his presence alone seemed to bring danger to her. How could he do that to her? After everything she'd been through, how could he put her through anything else?

But that wasn't entirely true either. Had he not been there at the magic show, she would've been dead. Had he not intervened when the assassins went after him, she would've been dead. Had he not thrown that rock and spooked the Wayne killer, she would've been dead. Had he not stopped Sonny, or even Clyde, from taking her, she might've wished she was dead.

His raw fist ached at the thought. He rubbed it soothingly, trying to push down the bubble of rage that'd began to rise in his chest.

It was over. He'd stopped that guy in Bludhaven, saved those two girls, and gotten away. He needed to put it behind him. It wasn't the first time he'd gone after people like that, so what was the big deal about this one in particular?

Well, he'd never nearly killed someone before.

Bruce shook his head. He didn't do it, he didn't kill that guy. He could've, he had every opportunity, every right. But he didn't do it. And instead of being buried in the ground he was gonna live the rest of his life from a prison cell. He'd done the right thing.

But the knife had been an inch from splitting his face wide open, from permanently ending that man's life.

How could he let that happen? His resolve had slipped right out from underneath him. He'd almost become a killer. Just like Jack, just like Penguin, just like the League and its enemies, just like the people he fought. When he killed, when he crossed that line, he'd be no better than them. No better than the man who'd killed Selina's parents.

But he'd never become that. He'd die first.

He brought his gaze up from the sidewalk, glancing east down the streets and seeing the sun rising higher over the horizon.

It was a new day. His eventful night in Bludhaven was over and there was no going back. What'd happened had happened. There was no use dwelling on things he couldn't control.

But one thing he _could_ control: the reason he'd gone down that rabbit hole in the first place, his relationship with Selina Wayne.

Every objection he'd raised to the idea had been torn to shreds. Was she safer when he was around? No. But was she safer when he wasn't? No. And it wasn't like all the danger in her life had been brought on by him. Galavan, Strange, Wayne Enterprises, he hadn't been a direct part of any of it; he'd just interfered when she was endangered, and so far he'd been successful in protecting her.

So what would be the harm in…expanding their relationship? What was the worst that could happen?

He was so lost in thought he almost walked into someone, although she didn't seem to be paying attention, either.

He stopped on a dime, his arm shooting from his side and latching onto her wrist as they nearly walked past each other. As she whipped around, he saw her start to reach for her knife, a cry of surprise and defiance rising and then dying in her throat.

She stared at him for a few moments, frozen, her eyes unmoving. She looked petrified.

He waved his free hand in front of her face, asking, "Hello? Earth to Cat? You okay?"

Selina blinked a few times, the scared, startled expression remaining on her face as she studied him. It was a little off-putting, her just staring at him silently, her face pale and eyes wide. Something was very, very wrong.

He smiled apprehensively, asking, "What're you doing here?" as he removed his hand from her wrist.

She blinked a few more times, the cogs in her head finally beginning to turn. "Um…I…you…um," she stuttered. Her voice seemed almost jumpy, like his presence was suddenly unnerving to her. After a few moments of silence, her demeanor did a total 180. She stuck out her hip and crossed her arms over her chest, complaining, "You said you'd call me."

A slow, sheepish smile crept across his face. That was it? He hadn't called her? He almost laughed out loud. He scratched the scruff of his neck, saying, "Yeah…sorry about that. A friend needed my help on a job. I just got back, actually."

"From where?" she blurted out, her voice a little too loud.

He raised his brow slightly, but calmly replied, "Bludhaven.

"What were you doing?" she asked just as quickly.

Okay, something was definitely wrong. She seemed frazzled. Why was she in the Narrows? He'd had his phone on him, she could've just called him.

On second thought…no, she couldn't have. He'd turned it off halfway to Bludhaven.

He chuckled lightly, his gaze drooping to the floor. He shook his head, telling her, "Details aren't worth going into. I'm sorry I didn't call; I should've let you know. It just slipped my mind. We were out all night and into the morning."

He could tell that her brain was still churning on something, but on what he had no idea. Her eyes had taken a darker glint and her brow was furrowed, her jaw slightly jutted out to the side like it always was when she was thinking.

Her eyes eventually cleared up and she nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, you look like shit. You want me to walk you home?"

Bruce shrugged, chuckling at her brash sense of humor. "Sure thing, Cat. Are we going street-level or rooftop?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that a real question?" she asked as she took off towards the nearest fire escape. "Race you?" she called, already halfway up the first ladder.

He smiled, jogging after her. "Loser buys breakfast?"

"Of course," she replied, picking up her pace as Bruce picked up his.

Something was off with her, he could feel it, but he had no idea what it was. She'd been fine yesterday. What could've changed? It's not like he could ask her what was wrong, she'd just respond that she was fine and blow it off like it was nothing.

But there was something there. He knew it. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

In the meantime, however, he had a race to win.

* * *

He overtook her when she realized she didn't know where they were going. Those few hours of sleep he'd gotten on the train to and from Bludhaven were more than he usually got, so, contrasting his worn down appearance, he felt energized.

So, yeah, he won quite easily.

They arrived at his apartment building and descended to the bottom floor, walking in the front door instead of sneaking inside. Selina's eyes went wide when he smiled and waved to the receptionist, and she waved back, asking how he was doing. He quickly replied that he was good before heading upstairs, Selina close on his heels.

"Since when do you live somewhere legally?" she asked.

He laughed. "Since I got a rich roommate…again."

Selina chuckled and shook her head. "I can't believe you're living with Jean-Paul Valley. You were gonna kill him last year."

He shrugged, unlocking the door to his apartment. "Things change."

As the door swung open, Selina let out a low whistle. "Yes…they do."

His apartment was no Wayne Manor by any means, but it was easily the second nicest place he'd ever lived in. It almost resembled Galavan's penthouse apartment, just one story and a little smaller. Jean may not have been orphan, billionaire Sterling St. Cloud, as he'd once claimed to be, but his decimation of the Order of St. Dumas had left a lot of ownerless cash lying around. The first room was their main living space, with their respective bedrooms, the bathroom, and kitchen jutting out from there. They'd stolen a pair of couches from Galavan's apartment (the same ones they'd nearly fought to the death on a few months earlier), along with a television set and wooden coffee table. A large window faced out into the streets of Gotham, bringing in a low, natural light as the sun rose over the nearby buildings.

He hung up his coat and tossed his keys into a nearby bowl. "It's better than the Factory, huh?"

She scoffed and nodded. "You could say that." She motioned for him to go in first, which he did, awkwardly sliding past her through the doorway and heading towards the tiny kitchen.

Thank God they'd finally cleaned it up a few days earlier. Their kitchen usually resembled a warzone, if wars were fought with empty pizza boxes and Ling's takeout. "Did you eat breakfast?" he called as he pulled out a pair of bowls from a cabinet.

"No," she called back. "Do you have–"

"Cocoa Nuts?" he finished, holding the box in the doorway for her to see.

She smiled weakly and took a seat on one of the couches, staring out the window at the rising sun. Bruce peaked through the kitchen door, studying her intently. She looked really tired and her eyes seemed distant and distracted. He'd taken note that she hadn't allowed him to walk behind her since they'd stopped running, even forcing him to squeeze past her into the apartment. It wasn't anything big, just little details that wouldn't have stuck out normally but they'd started to stack up.

He called her name as he walked out of the kitchen, earning no response. He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped slightly, her gaze snapping away from the streets. Her eyes had a tinge of surprise in them, but there was something else there, too. Distrust?

He handed her the cereal and took the opposite side of the couch. She took hers gratefully, but not-so-subtly waited until he took a spoonful of his before starting on her own bowl.

"So," he started, taking another bite of delicious chocolaty Cocoa Nuts, "what's up with you?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

He smirked, calmly stating, "You've been acting weird all morning. Talk to me."

She sighed, glancing out the window again. "I ran into Jack when I was looking for you."

Bruce slowly set his bowl of cereal down on the coffee table. It suddenly didn't seem so appetizing. He leaned forward and put a hand on her knee, quickly asking, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head, waving off the suggestion. "No, I'm fine, B. I can handle myself, you know."

"Not with him you can't," he stated, his tone becoming more and more serious by the second. "How did you run into him?"

She rolled her eyes. "I haven't seen Zee in months, I don't know Floyd very well, and Ted wouldn't pick up. I figured if anyone knew where you were–"

"Selina," Bruce interrupted loudly, leaning farther forwards until they were practically breathing the same air. Usually she would've enjoyed having him so close, but things were different now. She couldn't shake the memory of that same face staring down at her as her world faded to black, those same eyes, now alight with passion, cold and dead. "You will never speak to Jack Napier again. Do you understand me?"

She leaned backwards and arched her eyebrows. "Did you just–"

"Do you understand me?" he repeated. He was angry and he was doing nothing to hide it. The dull fire in his eyes was blazing.

She slowly nodded, placing her hand on top of his. "Okay, Bruce. I won't go to him again."

"Swear it," he insisted.

She sighed, stroking the top of his hand soothingly, her fingers running over the long scar that stretched from his knuckle to his elbow. "I swear I'll never speak to, seek out, or enlist the help of Jack Napier, again."

He nodded, but she kept his hand where it was. "Good. I'll just try and forget you ever mentioned it."

She rolled her eyes. "You do that."

He reached for his bowl, putting it on his lap and using his free hand to scarf down the rest of his breakfast, Selina holding the other one as she finished hers. He quietly took deep, calming breaths. Of all the explanations of why she'd been acting oddly that morning, running into Jack Napier had to be one of the worst case scenarios possible. If he'd so much as put a hand on her…

' _What?_ ' he asked himself. ' _What would you have done?_ _What_ could _you have done?_ _This is Jack we're talking about._ '

Selina squeezed his hand and he met her eyes quickly. "Are _you_ okay?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I just hate the idea of you going to the Flea, alone." The statement wasn't wholly truthful, but he wasn't lying, either.

She saw right through him. "I went to the Flea all the time when I lived with you," she stated. He cocked an eyebrow suggestively and a light blush rose in her cheeks. "You know what I mean," she stated. "But you didn't care back then, so why now?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself when he realized he was about to lie. He sighed. If he lied, she'd know. "My job last night…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

She tightened her grip on his hand. "Did it go that bad?"

He shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It went perfect, actually."

"But?" she asked.

He worked his jaw from side to side. "The job was for me, Jean, and a friend to steal a crate. It was being sold at an illegal auction in Bludhaven. It got sold off, we planned to follow the buyer out afterwards, and then I got distracted." He paused for a moment, waiting for her to ask or say something. When she maintained her silence, he continued, "Two girls got sold off to some bastard, and I followed him out instead." She nodded for him to go on. Slowly and carefully, he told her, "I confronted him, got the girls to the police."

She knit her brow. "Okay, that's all good. What else?"

A knot was tightening in his stomach. She soothingly stroked his arm. He sighed, and then finally muttered, "I almost killed him."

He looked up at her, expecting to see horror or disgust in her expression. But it was blank, unchanged from what it'd been five seconds earlier. He knew she was good at putting up a mask, just like he was, but he'd always been able to read her.

"Okay?" she asked, seemingly confused. "What else?"

He blinked a few times, shaking his head. "That…that was it. Selina, I almost killed him."

She arched her brow. "You said this guy bought them, right?" He nodded, and she continued, "So he deserved it."

He studied her expression and had a startling realization: He was having a difficult time reading her. It'd always been easy, since she'd always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but now… Her eyes were clouded over and her expression could've been cut out of stone. There was no emotion there to read.

But the lack thereof emotion told him everything he needed to know.

She was hiding something, and doing a damn good job at it.

He gently pulled his hand away as he stood up, taking their empty bowls of cereal into the kitchen. He calmly and casually saying over his shoulder, "Yeah, you're probably right."

She scoffed good-naturedly, teasing, "Of course I'm right. Piece of shit like that…"

"Pieces of shit like him are half the people I work with," he called as he rinsed out the dishes. "You get used to it."

She smirked, standing up from the couch as he dried his hands off. "Yeah, well I should probably get going. I told Alfred I'd be safe and in the past hour I've had a conversation with Jack Napier and had a meal with a guy alone in his apartment, so…" She gave him a peck on the cheek and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I'm glad you're safe, B."

He hummed in agreement. "You, too." She stepped away and he asked, "You need me to drive you home?"

She shook her head, pulling out her flip phone and telling him, "No, Alfred's around somewhere. I'll just call him."

Bruce nodded, joking, "Tell him I said hi."

She smiled, rolling her eyes as she headed towards the door. "Will do."

The door closed behind her and Bruce slumped into an armchair. He stared long and hard at the door to his apartment after she left.

She was hiding something, something she felt like she couldn't tell him about.

And over the past four years, he'd learned that keeping secrets never ended well when it came to Selina Wayne. She knew it, too.

So what could possibly be so horrible she'd lie to him about it?

The sun came over a cloud and shone through the window. A new dawn was rising. The storm from the night prior was gone and it would lead to a beautiful day.

It was almost insulting, given his position. Selina was lying, he was certain of it, and she'd only lie if she had reason to.

Now it was his job to find out what.

 **A/N: Okay, so these past two weeks were utter chaos but they're finally over and I'm free for two months so updates will continue as scheduled, if not more often. I can't wait to show you what I have in store (especially the Jack-centric chapter coming up). It's gonna be a wild ride. I'm also starting on the next chapter the second I post this because it's the confession scene and I'm hyped, so that should be coming out very soon as well.**

 **Oh, and I didn't mention it last chapter because I forgot but the guy who was holding the auction, Blackbeard aka Edward Thatch, is a direct callback to the character Blackbeard in the comics. His first appearance was in, get this, Batman #4. Not as in Batman #4 in the New 52, but as in the fourth Batman comic ever published. I was just scrolling through the Batman Wiki searching for a canon character to use for his role and I came across a picture of Batman have a sword-fight with a pirate and thought: that is everything I'm looking for!**

 **But anyways, I hope you enjoyed and, if you did or have any questions/comments/concerns, make sure to review! Your feedback is what got me through this past year and it honestly makes my day to see people invested in my work. So thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	37. Cards on the Table

**A/N: So, I'll be honest with you guys: I completely forgot to write an entire scene at the end of the last chapter. Yeah…that's my bad. It's a scene between Ted and Bruce where they talk and it's really important but I totally forgot so I decided to change up my original continuity (by about a week) and throw it in between the first scene and the rest of the chapter because it works.**

 **So anyways, here's Chapter 37 + the last scene of Chapter 36. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Cards on the Table**

Selina walked out of his apartment and leaned up against the closed door, trying to recollect her thoughts.

First, the night before, she and Bruce had had a sweet reunion, he bought her dinner, and he gave her a kiss on the forehead that warmed her to her core before he ran off into the night.

Then, later that night, she sees him see her see him kidnapping her.

 _Then_ , the next morning, she finds him and he's acting like nothing ever happened, claiming that he'd been working in Bludhaven all night.

What was she supposed to make of that? What was happening?

He wasn't lying, she was certain of it. She would know if he was. But what other explanations were there? And what was this other 'job' that Jack had told her about?

Shit. How had she forgotten to bring that up? He'd gotten so flustered when she brought up Jack, like he was horrified at the thought of her being in danger, which completely contradicted him assaulting Alfred and kidnapping her. It'd thrown her off.

She had half a mind to march back upstairs and confront him, but she was already in the lobby. The receptionist, a young, blonde woman in her early twenties, called at her, "Excuse me, are you that Cat girl?"

Selina nodded slowly. "Yes…have we met before?"

The young woman laughed good-naturedly and shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that. I've just heard Bruce and Jean talk about you, several times. Jean teases him and…well…I figured if Jean hadn't come back yet and Bruce was…you know…taking a girl up to their apartm–"

"No! No, that isn't…we're not…" Selina stammered loudly, gaining a few wary glances from the other occupants of the lobby. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "No, we're not…"

The woman shook her head and waved off Selina's attempts, saying, "Oh, honey, there's nothing to be ashamed of. He's a _very_ good looking young…"

Selina was already out of the lobby before she finished her sentence, zipping down the street with her tail between her legs. Her cheeks were beet red and she knew it. She had much bigger fish to fry than her relationship status with Bruce. If she was a regular teenager, that's all that would matter to her, but most teenagers didn't have secret societies breathing down their necks.

What had her life become?

She took out her phone and sent Alfred a quick text. Bruce may've offered to drive her home, but she sure as hell wasn't about to get in a car with him, not in his current state. Not after he'd kidnapped her twelve hours ago.

She met Alfred around the corner, the limousine getting curious looks from passersby. She climbed inside and was immediately met by a barrage of questions, but she ignored him.

After a few more attempts at breaking her cold exterior, Alfred asked, "Are you alright?"

She shrugged. "I found him." She left it at that, keeping her gaze fixed outside. He left her alone after that, driving them out of the Narrows.

She thought over the question through the drive. Yes, _she_ was fine. It was Bruce she was worried about. Kathryn had threatened him and now he was acting strange. The way he'd looked at her last night, like he didn't even recognize her, like he didn't know what he was doing. She wanted to get answers out of him, but did he know them?

She'd keep trying, he was worth it, but if she couldn't get the answers out of him…

"Can we stop by Wayne Enterprises before we go home?" she piped up loudly, nearly causing Alfred to veer off the road.

After a few frantic swerves and a lot of swearing at Gotham drivers, Alfred responded, "Of course, Miss Wayne. But…I feel that I should remind you–"

"You don't need to," she sharply responded. Alfred slowly nodded and went quiet, again. She knew what he was going to say, that she'd promised those people she wouldn't investigate them any further. Even if they hadn't been entirely responsible for her parents' deaths, they'd crossed a line when they started messing with Bruce Kyle.

They were gonna get what was coming to them, one way or another.

* * *

A few days had passed since he'd last seen Selina. He hadn't gone out of his way to contact her, but it still felt odd after seeing her multiple times within two days. It felt like she was avoiding him.

Yet, he wasn't exactly raring to see her either. She was hiding something and he didn't like it, not one bit. But what could he do about it?

He mostly stayed home over the week. With Jean off on his investigation, he had the apartment to himself. Talia hadn't contacted him since Bludhaven, and Floyd was off somewhere doing his own thing. All was quiet, and he was getting impatient.

After a week of waiting for something to happen, he finally, graciously, got an alert on his phone. He lazily stretched across the couch to grab it off the table, flicking it open.

His eyes went wide and he sat bolt upright. He read the message a few times over, and then got a wide, cocky grin. He turned off the Rogues game and leapt across the den to his bedroom. He dove under his bed, removing a crate from underneath it, throwing the lid open, and smiling down at his weaponry.

Oh, what to choose…

He restrained himself from grabbing his two year-old pair of brass knuckles, the ones he always seemed to pick, and settled on a newer pair he'd bought for his sixteenth birthday, along with his knife. He was half tempted to bring along one of the smoke pellets Jean had gifted him, but this didn't seem like the proper occasion for stealth.

He slammed the lid shut and slid it back under his bed, bolting out of his room towards the window. He grabbed his jacket off the couch and climbed over the windowsill, climbing up to the rooftops.

The address was only a few blocks away and it seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

But if one of Hugo Strange's freaks was there, there was money to be made. Since the million-dollar bounty on Fish Mooney's head was redacted by Penguin, there hadn't been a single monster sighting, and that was very bad for business. He needed this one.

He crossed the Narrows in less than two minutes, sliding down a lamppost to the ground and tearing across the street. He whipped around the corner and found himself face-to-face with the location.

He looked the building up and down, the gravity of the situation finally landing on him. He knew the address because he'd lived here. In big, bold, ugly red letters, the sign read: Henry Grant Boxing Gym. And instead of a monster standing in front of it, there was only his big brother.

"Hey, kiddo," Ted called. He looked mad.

Bruce glanced up and down the street, still hoping there was a monster to fight. He'd prefer that than having a conversation with a pissed off Ted Grant. Alas, there was no freak in sight.

"Hey, Ted," Bruce replied slowly.

Let's get something straight: over the past half a year, Bruce had made a lot of progress on his build. He'd come a long way from the long, lanky kid he'd once been, but his older brother was on a different level. If Bruce hadn't witnessed his rigorous training regimen since age eleven, he would've bet everything he owned that Ted was on some kind of steroid. He made some professional TV wrestlers look like children. Was he tall? No. In fact he was an inch or two shorter than Bruce nowadays, but his biceps were the size of cannonballs and his fists were comparable to cinderblocks. When he was sixteen, he'd practically been forced to give up boxing because no other kids his age were willing, or able, to fight him. Now, he was twenty-one going on twenty-two, graduated top of his class in the police academy, and was the scariest beat cop in the city.

And hanging in his left hand were two pairs of boxing gloves.

Bruce swallowed hard, eyeing the gloves warily. "What's up?"

Ted shrugged. His demeanor seemed casual, but everything else about him screamed otherwise. "Oh, nothing much, how 'bout you?" Bruce said nothing. Ted nodded, "Well, it must've been a whole lot of important nothing since I've been trying to get a hold of you for a week."

Bruce stood completely still; unsure of whether or not he was supposed to speak. Ted didn't give him a chance. He tossed him a pair of gloves and trudged inside the gym. Bruce slowly followed suit, knowing too well what was about to happen.

He silently went to the locker room and switched into a tank top, basketball shorts, and tennis shoes. He pulled on his gloves and slowly approached the ring. Ted was already standing there, glaring him down as he approached. The whole gym had gone near silent, every pair of eyes on him as he marched to his grave.

At least there'd be plenty of witnesses to his demise.

He stepped inside the ring, Ted calmly leaning in the corner across from him. Bruce took an extra long time to stretch out, but he was delaying the inevitable. A small crowd had gathered around the ring, now, waiting expectantly to see how Ted would tear him apart.

Finally, Bruce turned around, wincing when he saw the dull rage in Ted's eyes. Ted glanced around the ring, seeing the crowd, and barked, "The hell're you lookin' at?!"

The crowd quickly dispersed, and Bruce felt relief and dread all at once. Relief that a mob of people weren't about to watch him get his ass handed to him. Dread that there was no one left to jump in if things went too far.

But they wouldn't go too far, right? Ted was his older brother after all. He was gonna get knocked around a bit, sure, but he wouldn't _really_ hurt him, right?

Still, he kept his hands high.

They nodded and stepped towards each other. Ted barked, "Chin down, Kyle!" He threw a haymaker that just barely glanced off of Bruce's gloves. Still, the force knocked Bruce back. He tried to reset his footing, but it was too late. A flurry of punches later, he was flat on his back, wheezing for breath.

Ted looked down at him and sighed. He stuck out a hand and lifted him up off the ground, waiting patiently for Bruce to regain his wind.

When he started breathing again, Ted calmly asked, "Okay, now that I knocked some sense into you, talk to me. What's been going on with you?"

Bruce resumed his boxing stance and they started again, Ted visibly going far slower than before. As they sparred, Bruce told him everything from his job with the League (which Ted already knew about) to his weird dreams (which, once again, Ted was already familiar with). But he primarily focused on his talk with Selina and his feeling that she was hiding something.

When he finished, Ted scoffed and dropped his gloves to his sides. "Huh, that's funny," he commented offhandedly.

Bruce took the obvious bait. "What's funny?"

He shook his head. "I guess funny ain't the right word. Ironic is more like it."

"Wow, 'ironic', that's a big word for a beat cop," Bruce teased. Ted caught him on the ear, reminding him who was in charge. "Fine then, what's _ironic_?"

"Selina called me two days ago and said the same thing."

Bruce momentarily dropped his gloves, and Ted made him pay for it. By the time he recovered enough to try and defend himself, he was sitting on the canvas. Ted extended a hand and Bruce shrugged. "Well…at least she's right."

When he regained his feet, Ted surprisingly dropped his stance. Since he'd first knocked him on his ass, he'd become more light-hearted, more like the older brother he'd grown up with. But suddenly his expression went serious. That alone made Bruce anxious. But then, Ted asked the million dollar question:

"Do you love her?"

Bruce blinked a few times, unsure if he'd heard that right. Ted's expression remained serious and his words finally dawned on Bruce.

Yeah, he blushed very, very hard.

Ted rolled his eyes, throwing a light jab into his ribs. "It doesn't have to be _that_ kind of love. For example: I love my idiot little brother. I love my friends. I love our dad. I'd do anything for any of them."

Bruce shrugged, throwing a few jabs back at his brother. "I mean, if you put it like that…yeah, I guess."

Ted nodded, throwing a few harder hits at Bruce's chest. "Okay then, you love her. So why the hell are you lying to her?"

Bruce threw a pair of punches back, harder than before. "I'm just trying to protect her."

Ted scoffed, nearly knocking him flat on his ass, again. "Oh yeah? How well has that gone so far?" Bruce didn't respond and Ted lowered his gloves. "Keeping secrets will ruin your life," he stated. "They never turn out well, no matter how well intentioned they might seem. The truth comes to life, always."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "Did you get that from a fortune cookie or something?"

Ted hit him, again, chiding, "This is serious, B. If you want Selina to be honest with you, how could you do any less for her?"

Before Bruce could respond, Ted's police radio went off. He huffed. "I have to go. I got stuck patrolling around the Sirens for Cobblepot's Victory Party." He pulled off his gloves and placed a firm hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Bruce, how many girls have I dated?"

Bruce knit his brow. "Is this a trick question or are you just trying to brag?"

Ted shook his head. "Neither. How many girls have I dated?"

Bruce exhaled loudly. "Let's see, there was Kathy, Tina, the other Kathy, Becky, Audrey, Tina again…was there a Lauren? I feel like there was a Lauren…"

"And how many of those lasted more than a month?"

Bruce slowly shook his head. "None of them."

"Exactly. What you have with Selina, whatever it is, it's stronger than anything I've ever had with anyone ever, and I had a five year head start. So, take it from me: don't mess this up because you're scared of telling her the truth. She's tough. She won't leave."

He gave him a pat on the shoulder and headed out of the ring, but Bruce stood there for a long time afterwards. How Ted seemed to always know exactly what he was thinking, Bruce would never know. Those last three words…they had to have hurt Ted to say. Ted's mom had been killed in a drug deal gone wrong, and Bruce's mom had up and left him. They both knew what it felt like, someone who you love unconditionally tossing you aside. It made you feel worthless.

Selina wasn't like that. She was nothing like his mother. He didn't need to be afraid of telling her the truth, but he still got a pit in his stomach at the thought.

But what if she did leave? What would he do then?

But she wouldn't. She'd stood by him through everything. He'd done everything in his power to push her away and she hadn't given up on him.

So what was he so afraid of?

This was Selina Wayne they were talking about, his best friend, his partner in crime. And Ted was right. There was something there. He knew it was there and he knew what it was called.

He could do this. He could tell her the truth, all of it. She'd accept him. And if she didn't…well...what else did he have to lose?

He glanced across the room at the TV in the corner. The news was airing, some GCNN reporter standing in front of the Sirens Night Club where "newly-elected Mayor Oswald Cobblepot's Victory Party" was taking place.

If Bruce had to bet, the heiress of Gotham's first family was sure to get an invite to something like that.

And it was well past time for him to have a conversation with Selina Wayne.

* * *

Alfred escorted Selina through a mob of paparazzi. She hadn't exactly been active in the public eye since the Maniax had nearly taken her hostage. Now that she was older, the tabloids turned from whether or not she'd seek counseling to whether or not she'd take the reins at her father's company before adulthood. Some questioned her naivety and youth. A certain photograph kept resurfacing of her kissing a mystery boy at the Wayne Enterprises Charity Gala over two years ago. The kid was long and skinny with dark ruffled hair (which he had attempted to tame) and darker eyes. He fit right in with the crowd of millionaires.

She knew who her partner was, but no one else did, and the tabloids were searching in all of the wrong places. The boy was a ghost.

Alfred pulled her into the building, throwing a few curses at the reporters as they passed. Selina smoothed out her dress. A year ago, she would've fought and clawed had Alfred tried to make her wear a dress, but things had changed. Two months living in hell with Bruce had taught her to appreciate what she'd inherited. Besides, wearing anything besides a dress to an occasion such as this would put her even more in the spotlight than she was already, just not for the right reasons.

So she trudged into the elevator and went up to the penthouse, Alfred sending her not-so-subtle, wary glances. She hadn't told him much about her new investigation, just saying that there was one loose end she needed to pull on. If it came up empty, then she'd gladly abide by her agreement with the group running her company. If not…

The elevator door rolled open and they stepped into the Sirens Club. Live music was being played on the stage as dozens of people in expensive evening wear mingled about. She scanned the club for someone, _anyone_ she recognized, but to no avail.

She sighed. "How long do we have to stay?"

Alfred chuckled. "As long as it takes for you to be seen in the world, Miss Wayne."

She rolled her eyes. "I think the paparazzi took care of that for me, don't you?"

"Be that as it may, as a Wayne this is your role to play, a steady force for Gotham to rely upon."

She scoffed. "A mob boss is the mayor. We're at his victory party in a club run by a psycho."

"Exactly my point. The people need someone strong to lean upon, someone to look these people in the eye and stand their ground–"

"As we let a faceless group take over my company on a threat," she rebuffed, shaking her head.

"That was your decision, Miss Wayne."

"Well they didn't give me much of a choice."

"And what good would going home to lock yourself away in your father's study and research them until you collapse do you, eh? Play their game, Miss Wayne. Throw them off your scent."

"So that's why you're making me do this."

Alfred chuckled. "No, Miss Wayne, I'm making you do this to get you out of the bloody house for once. Need I remind you that you're sixteen and a billionaire? You need to fraternize, meet new people, make friends."

"I have friends."

"You have one and he's a criminal and we are not talking about this right now because we are at a party."

She huffed, threw one more longing look back at the elevator, and then marched headfirst into the nest of vipers. It took less than a minute for the king cobra himself to find them.

"Selina, Mr. Pennyworth, I'm so pleased you made it," Penguin called as he waddled towards them. He hadn't changed much since the last time Selina had seen him, besides switching his Arkham Asylum onesie for a suit and cane.

"Yeah, well, you know, we're trying to get out a bit more, Mr. Mayor," Alfred greeted.

"Oh, Oswald, please," Cobblepot insisted.

"So, mayor?" Selina started. "Quite the career change."

Oswald shrugged. "I got help, turned my life around. The death of my poor, poor mother…it changed me. I'm sure you'd understand."

Selina clenched her fist behind her back. She had to remind herself that scratching the mayor's eye out was a crime. Still…it was tempting. Instead, she forced her best fake smile onto her lips, and agreed, "Yes, I think I do. And now here you are, the new mayor."

"Sometimes life has a way of working out."

She gave a curt nod. "Yes, that's true. But I won't take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have other guests you'd like to speak with."

Penguin gave a polite bow. "It was a pleasure seeing you both, again. I look forward to working with you more in the future, Selina."

Selina nodded and forced herself to keep smiling. Cobblepot hobbled off and she muttered, "Like hell."

Alfred nodded approvingly. "Well done, Miss Wayne. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to wet my beak before we head off."

She nodded and he walked off, disappearing into the mass of bodies. She leaned up against a wall, closing her eyes and trying to block out the noise of the party. She'd been seen with Cobblepot. She might just get out of that nest of vipers yet.

"Selina Wayne…" a chilling voice called. Her eyes shot open and her hand instinctually jumped to her forearm. Alas, she was wearing a sleeveless dress and her knife was nowhere to be found. Standing in front of her was none other than Jack Napier himself. His long, disgusting hair was plastered to his scalp, somehow looking worse than normal. He wore a suit that was far too expensive for a teen from the Narrows, yet he somehow managed to make even that look tacky. He approached her with a wide smile, but his eyes told an entirely different story. His confidence in the midst of the elites of Gotham sent a clear message: he was the most dangerous person in the room. He knew it, and everyone else did too. Selina suddenly became very aware that her back was to a wall. He eyed her up and down, giving a low whistle. "You clean up nice."

"You don't."

He gave a strained chuckle, taking another step towards her. She had to force herself to not shove him back. "Now, now, that's not very nice."

"What do you want?"

He put a hand across his chest as if he took offense. "Can't I check up with my favorite kitty?" She glared at him. He sighed. "I guess not. But tell me: has Brucey told you about his 'new job' yet?" he drawled, taking another half step forwards. Her expression hardened, but she remained silent. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You could do better than Kyle, ya know."

"Go to hell," she spat.

He laughed out loud. "You may've not noticed from your ivory tower, but we're already here, sweetheart. And I'm the devil."

She gave a short bark of a laugh. "Oh please, you're nothing."

He shrugged. "Maybe...for now." He momentarily glanced off to the right and did a double take. A wicked smile stretched across his face. "Look, kitty cat. Here comes your knight in shining leather."

Selina couldn't help herself but turn and look.

She'd never been so glad to see Bruce Kyle in her life. He was pushing his way through the crowd, his path locked on where she and Jack were standing.

She hadn't noticed it since she was turned away from Jack, but he had taken another step forwards to the point where they were breathing the same air. He whispered into her ear, "How many lies has he told you?"

She shoved him backwards, putting a few feet back between them just as Bruce reached her. He stood slightly in front of her, his fists knuckles white as he glared Jack down. Selina had seen that look once before, right before Bruce nearly killed Sonny Gilzean. Yet, she didn't feel the need to try and calm him down. Although his eyes were alight with a fiery rage and his fists were clenched, but there was something else in his eyes, too.

Jack smiled. "Hello, Bruce. Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Bruce responded icily.

"Well, a word of advice, one friend to another: keep a better eye on your cat. There are plenty of unsavory folk in this city, after all. A pretty face like that walking around alone, well, you're just asking for someone to–"

Selina slapped him.

Hard.

He reeled back for a moment, holding his cheek in his hand as he stared at her. Bruce turned back, too, meeting her eyes for the first time. His cheeks were drained of color.

She quickly figured out what that other thing in his demeanor was called.

Fear.

Bruce was afraid.

Jack started laughing. He stared at her with sick amusement. Everything in her told her to step back, to apologize, but she held her ground. She was a Wayne, and there was no way in hell she was backing down to someone like this.

Still, Jack's words felt like ice crawling up her spine. "I'll be seeing you, Selina," he growled before slinking off into the crowd.

Bruce moved quickly, latching his hand around hers and dragging her in the opposite direction of where Jack had gone. She didn't raise a protest, allowing him to take her down a hallway, up a staircase, and out onto the roof of the building.

He suddenly stopped, whipped around, and grabbed her by her shoulders. His face was so close to hers, she could feel his warm breath on her face. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he demanded.

"I'm fine, Bruce," she told him soothingly. "Jack was just being a creep."

Bruce nodded slowly. A range of emotions rapidly flashed through his eyes, first worry, then relief, and then…

"What the hell were you thinking?!" he shouted.

She took a step back in surprise. That had to be the first time he'd ever raised his voice at her, and she didn't like it. Instead of giving in, she shot back, "I was thinking that he needed someone to teach him a–"

"NOT _HIM_!" Bruce yelled. "AND NOT _YOU_! I TOLD YOU, I _SPECIFICALLY_ SAID TO STAY AWAY FROM HIM–!"

"WELL WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO, LET HIM WALK ALL OVER YOU?!"

"YES!"

Selina's next words died in her throat. She hadn't been expecting him to say that. She shook her head. "He's nothing but a creep who's too afraid to–"

"Whatever you're about to say is wrong," Bruce interrupted.

She knit her brow. "What?"

"He isn't afraid," Bruce told her adamantly. "Not of me, not of Penguin, not of the cops, not of anyone. That's why I told you to stay away from him. These people, they're too…" He groaned in frustration.

Selina took a slow step forward, glancing between Bruce's eyes. They were filled with turmoil. She took a deep breath and asked, "What aren't you telling me, Bruce?"

He clenched his jaw and turned away from her, looking out over the Gotham skyline. This was it, his big moment, the one he'd been prepping for all day. Hell, he'd borrowed a tux from Jean's closet for this. Here he was, alone with nothing but the sky and Selina to keep him company. How many ways could he approach his answer? Where was he supposed to start?

She'd hear him, she'd understand, she was stronger than him. He could tell her anything.

Yet it was terrifying nonetheless.

He took a deep breath and told her, "You're right. I've been keeping secrets."

She nodded. "Yeah, I got that already. Spill."

He grinned weakly. "It's not that simple."

"How could it possibly not be that simple? You've been keeping something from me, and now you're gonna tell me what."

In the course of a few seconds, Bruce had a mental war of which secret to admit to first, or at all. He had to tell her about one of them, he'd explode if he kept it to himself any longer, but the other one was debatably more complicated. He'd gone over this a million times, but it didn't make it any easier.

He took one more deep breath and started, "We've been friends a long time, Selina. And ever since you've known me, I've simply been trying to survive day-to-day, but things have changed. I don't know what's next, but I know–"

"Would you, please…just say what you mean?" Selina asked.

"I like you."

A moment of silence passed, even the buzz of the city streets turning into a low hum. It was just him and Selina, standing on a rooftop. She remained silent, but her eyes were rapidly jumping between his.

"As in more than a friend," he clarified.

She kept quiet, narrowing her eyes slightly as she stared at him.

He nervously looked around, feeling his neck and cheeks starting to heat up under her gaze. "It would be nice if you said something back."

She stared for a few more seconds. "Bruce, how many times have we kissed?"

His cheeks went beet red. "What?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "It's not a trick question. How many times have we kissed?"

A light grin started to spread across his face as he saw her demeanor shift. "Depends, are we talking cheek and forehead kisses or just lips?"

She nodded, thankful that he was finally getting it. "If you need me to clarify that, I think it says enough about my feelings for you."

"So…you like me, too?" he asked, only half-joking.

She gave him the biggest eye roll of her life before taking his collar in her hands and pulling him down to her level. She mumbled, "You're such an idiot," and she kissed him.

When she finally pulled away, Bruce was grinning ear to ear. "Four."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"We've kissed four times," he stated.

She smiled. "Make that five," she joked as she kissed him again.

They ended up sitting on the edge of the building, their legs dangling over the seven story drop. He had his arm around her shoulders and her head was tucked into his neck. They watched the traffic below, the strobe lights from the club shining out the windows and reflecting off the neighboring buildings. Gotham could be beautiful if you looked at it from the right angle.

But there was still something hanging over him, one last secret.

"Cat," he started.

"Mhmm?" she purred.

"I'm done keeping secrets." She hummed for him to go on. "I have one more."

She sat back and looked at him. She seemed apprehensive, even more so than him. "Okay, talk to me."

"The people I work with, the people Jean works for, they're called the League of Assassins."

"Assassins?" Selina asked. "That doesn't seem like your style."

He shook his head. "That's why I work _with_ them, not _for_ them. They tried to get me to join, but I'd have to kill someone. I refused, but their leader likes me."

She knit her brow. "You know, Bruce, that seems like a more important secret than your crush on me."

He shrugged. "I told you, I'm done with secrets. Big and small."

She chuckled, leaning into him. "That's fair, I guess…but I do have one question." He hummed for her to go on. "What's this guy's name? Do you know it?"

He nodded. "They call him Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head."

She hummed in acknowledgment. "One more question, if you don't mind."

"Go for it."

"What do you wear when you work for these guys? Is there a uniform or something?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's different for every person, but we wear a cloak and mask."

"What does the mask look like?" she asked.

That was a very specific question. "Um…it's cloth and wraps around your face. It covers everything below your nose. The hood covers the rest. Why?"

She shook her head, her wild curls tickling his neck as she moved. "Just curious. If I see a guy in a cloak and a mask running across the rooftops, I'll know it's you."

"Don't blow my cover," Bruce teased.

She scoffed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He smiled and put his arm around her, again, content to sit there until the sun rose over the horizon. Everything he'd needed to say had been said, and it'd turned out better than he could've ever hoped for. Things were looking up.

Selina, on the other hand, had had one of her many questions answered, but it only led to more questions. One thing was for sure: whoever had kidnapped her a week ago wasn't Bruce.

So who the hell could it have been?

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this one out, but I wanted to take my time and get it right. I hope you don't mind the changes I made to the confession scene, but I felt like it was so freakin' obvious that he liked her and vice versa that even Selina wouldn't have been able to take him seriously in that moment.**

 **Also, I'd like to point out that Jack's role in this story is about to skyrocket. The chapter after the next one is the Jack-centric chapter I've been talking about and, let me tell you, it's gonna be one wild ride. And if you haven't figured it out already, which I'm sure you all have but I'm gonna say it anyways, Jack is my Joker in this universe. I'm not like the** _ **Gotham**_ **writers because, A: they get paid, and B: I don't have to work within legal constraints which means I can do whatever the hell I want to.**

 **This chapter is one of the most important ones of the whole series as it concludes the first BatCat romance arc from the first 37 chapters, as well as kicking off the plot for the rest of the series. So if you enjoyed or have any comments/questions/concerns, please make sure to Review! Your feedback is what I write for, after all. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	38. Is This a Date? Pt 1

**A/N: Okay, I'm so sorry for taking an extended break (over two weeks) in between chapters but this one was ridiculously difficult to write for no apparent reason. I just couldn't do it. The words and sentences felt awkward and clunky and I just didn't feel inspired to push through. So, I decided to take my time and get it right instead of rushing out some half-finished chapter at the last minute. Thank you for your patience and support through it all.**

 **And speaking of support, we just passed 200 Reviews and 30,000 views and we're almost at 100 Favorite and 100 Follows…which is kind of a big deal. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love working on this series and each of your individual input has made it into what it is today. Some of you have been reading since the first chapter over a year ago, which is just insane. I'm gonna talk more in the Bottom Note, but once again, thank you. It means the world.**

 **So with that all of that said, here's Chapter 38 of** _ **Roles Reversed**_ **. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Is This a Date? Pt. 1**

Selina made her way downstairs from the roof of the Sirens. Bruce had disappeared off into the night, and her mind was still buzzing from the kiss he'd given her before departing. She was certain her cheeks and neck were bright pink from it all. He'd finally man'd up and told her his true feelings for her (which had been pretty obvious, but still).

And now they were dating…

She wasn't single anymore…

Not that she'd spent _too_ much time thinking about it, but whatever she'd expected to feel when she got a boyfriend, this lived up to it and then some. Her heart was still jumping around violently in her chest, her sense of balance was thrown off, like she'd just gotten off a rollercoaster, her mind was everywhere and nowhere, and there was a permanent smile tugging at her lips. In the past hour she'd felt more content, more at peace than she had felt in a very long time.

She was so happy she almost forgot about the latter half of their conversation, her question about who he worked for, what he'd been doing the night he was supposedly in Bludhaven.

Her high came instantly crashing down.

Bruce hadn't lied to her, she was certain of it. He hadn't been there the night she'd been abducted, yet she'd seen him clear as day. There were still a few possibilities, such as brainwashing or a look-alike, but neither of those explanations seemed feasible or realistic.

But a scientist creating monsters underneath a looney bin didn't seem realistic. A secret society running Gotham right under her nose didn't seem realistic. A thousand year-old cultist group dedicated to wiping out her family didn't seem realistic.

And yet all of those things had happened, she'd witnessed them first hand, so who was she to rule out the improbable?

There were too many questions and far too few answers. She needed to get home, write them all down, start mapping it all out. Hopefully, if she pulled on the loose strings hard enough, they'd take her straight to the source.

Unfortunately, she already had an idea of who it would lead her to: the people in the owl masks, the people she'd promised not to investigate, the people who probably had dozens of the men in the black masks at their disposal.

But she couldn't be certain of that quite yet. There were too many unknown variables to make a conclusion.

She quickened her pace, jogging down the stairs to the club. She expected to find the scene she'd left, dozens of millionaires and politicians mingling around talking about how much money they recently donated or which celebrities they knew.

Instead, she found half a dozen cops dragging Butch Gilzean to the elevator, fighting and swearing as he went. Penguin and his right hand man, Edward Nygma, were off to the side, another officer taking their witness statements. Barbara Keen and Tabitha Galavan, of whom Selina had fond memories of neither, were having a quiet discussion/argument about something.

Other than them, there seemed to be no one else left in the club.

That is except for Alfred who was currently charging at her. She braced herself for impact as he nearly tackled her. After she'd assured him that she was okay, he proceeded to lay into her about running off and worrying him half to death and not picking up her cell phone and the other thousand things she'd done wrong in the past half hour.

Finally, when he was forced to come up for air, Selina butted in, "I was safe, Alfred. I was with Bruce."

That didn't help the matter, not one bit.

"Kyle? What was he doin' here? He's not exactly the high society type."

"Neither are you," she rebuffed. Alfred's gaze hardened and she relented, "He was looking for me."

"And why is that?"

She tried not to blush, she really, really did, but she wasn't strong enough.

His eyes went wide and he got a knowing smirk on his face. "Ah, I see, you two were–"

"Talking," she stated, louder than she'd meant it. "We were just talking."

"About what, if you don't mind me asking?"

She knit her brow and crossed her arms. "I do mind, actually, and it's none of your business what."

"Oh really?" he challenged. "You do know I can pop you back on a plane to Switzerland whenever I want? Then how would you 'talk' with Mister Kyle?"

She clenched her jaw. There was no getting out of this, she'd have to tell him, but she sure as hell wasn't gonna make it easy. She dropped her arms and put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows and putting a mischievous smirk on her face. She took a small step forwards and Alfred's stoic expression faltered. "Fine. You wanna know what we talked about?" She dropped her gaze to the floor and traced her foot in figure-eights absentmindedly. "Just me and Bruce, on a roof, for half an hour, all alone…" She glanced up and Alfred was already redder than she was. "Well, first he told me that he cared about me, and then that he was keeping secrets…" She smiled to herself. "Then he told me that things were changing, that _he_ was changing in…ways. And then, he told me he liked me." She took another glance up and saw that Alfred was nearly fire-truck red. He was completely unnerved. "Well, one thing led to another…"

"And?" Alfred asked, his voice seemingly filled with real fear.

She knit her brow. "Don't look at me like that. We didn't _do_ anything, if that's what you're implying. Geez, Alfred, I thought you'd have more faith in me." She shook her head in disgust. "Guess not."

And with that, she turned on her heel and marched off, a smirk tugging at her lips the whole trip back to the car.

That took care of that.

Now with Alfred out of the way, she could focus on the more important issue: finding the boy who looked like Bruce.

* * *

It was much easier said than done. In three weeks she'd essentially found nothing. She'd gone through every file, every book, every possible hiding spot in her entire house and found absolutely nothing. She'd gone through her father's calendar, the only thing unlocked on his computer, and searched through over a decade of meetings, birthdays, anniversaries, and acronyms, and she'd found nothing even referencing the existence of the group, let alone a lead on a Bruce Kyle lookalike.

She threw her blank notepad across the room, spinning around in her chair in frustration. She glared at her cork board. She'd used playing cards and red string to map out everything she knew so far, leaving many, many openings to represent what she didn't know. At the very top of board sat two kings, one of spades and one of diamonds. On the king of diamonds she'd written 'League of Assassins'. Below it were the jack of diamonds and jack of hearts, representing Jean and Bruce who both worked for the League.

On the other side was the king of spades on which she'd drawn a rough sketch of an owl. Underneath that was the queen of spades, on which she'd written 'Kathryn', and below that was the jack of spades, on which she drew a question mark, the imposter Bruce.

Two separate groups, the League of Assassins and the mysterious group Kathryn worked for. The only connection between the two: they both had a Bruce, one real and one fake.

There had to be something she was missing, but she had no idea where to start looking. She had half a mind to try and find Kathryn, but even if she did, what would she say? She'd agreed to stop investigating them. She couldn't go back on that, not until she knew who she was facing.

She glanced up at the board and her heart sunk in her chest. There was one more thing she knew for certain that she hadn't added to the chart. She got up from her chair and walked up the stairs to her father's study. She went two doors down the hall and entered her bedroom, slowly walking over to her dresser in the corner. She removed the hidden key from underneath it and unlocked the first drawer. She slid it open and was met with hundreds of photographs, all the pictures she could find of her and her parents.

This was where she came on the worst nights, the ones when the gunshot would endlessly ring in her ears, the ones when she woke up and sprinted to the bathroom to try and wash her parents' blood off her hands, the ones when her voice had turned shrill from screaming.

This was where she came, back to her parents, a time before her life had fallen apart. The last time she'd visited this drawer had been after she'd confronted Matches Malone, asking for their blessing to go live with Bruce, to better herself. Some of the pictures were still stained from the tears she'd shed that night, begging her parents for guidance and forgiveness. Since then, she'd found other places to draw strength from, but this drawer, these pictures, they held a power that nearly nothing else could.

She reached to the back of the drawer, hoping to find a photograph she hadn't seen before, one that she wasn't emotionally attached to. Of course, it was no use. Every picture of her father reminded her of the great man he was. He saved lives for a living, he was kind and gentle and compassionate. He'd once helped a man whose car had broken down on the way home from a twelve hour night shift at the hospital. To her father, there was nothing more precious in the world than human life. He'd always told her that people change people. He believed he could make a difference in Gotham, change it for the better, one person at a time.

And he got a bullet in his chest for his trouble.

Three years later, she was sitting in her bedroom, questioning everything she knew about him because some lady had told her that he'd worked with her shadowy organization. She was being ridiculous. Her father was a great man.

But he'd kept secrets…just like she did.

She grabbed a photo at random, lined up her scissors, and closed them the next instant. She looked down at the two halves. It was an older picture, she was probably five or six at the oldest. Her father was holding her hand as they walked down the street. She was beaming in delight and his eyes were shining with love and pride.

She'd never seen the picture before then, or at least she didn't remember seeing it, but she regretted separating the two halves immediately.

But she'd done it, and she'd done it for a reason. She placed the other half, the picture of her littler self, on her nightstand, promising to reunite it with its partner when she was done, when she'd cleared the other half's name.

She jogged down to the study and descended into the bunker, taking a thumb tack and pinning his picture up underneath the king of spades, right next to Kathryn's queen of spades.

She examined the board again, and something suddenly clicked.

She'd made it this far by retracing her steps, starting from Bruce's lookalike all the way up to the mystery group running her company, and then back down to her father's involvement. If that'd worked so well up until now, why didn't she keep retracing her steps? She removed another card from the deck, another jack of spades (she had multiple decks of cards), and put it next to the original jack of spades, the Bruce lookalike.

She'd seen one of those black-clad assassin guys before. He'd nearly killed her.

She jogged back up the stairs, yelling for Alfred as she made her way back to her room. He rounded the corner as she reached her bedroom door. He was breathing hard. "What is it? Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly.

She smiled to herself and shook her head. Once a butler, always a butler. He'd probably run from the other end of the manor. "I'm fine, Alfred. I just need you to drive me to the city." He nodded apprehensively and eyed her current outfit, old athletic shorts with a baggy Gotham Rogues hoodie that she'd never returned to Bruce. "What?" she demanded defensively.

He furrowed his brow. "You do remember that Doctor Lee Thompkins' engagement party is tonight? And you promised to attend?"

She groaned, "Ugh, I totally forgot. We'll have to make a second stop in the city." She looked down at her messy appearance. "Give me a few minutes."

He nodded and she almost made a clean getaway. Alas, he asked the million dollar question, "Where are you planning to go?"

She cringed. He wasn't gonna like this. "Pinewood Farms." His eyes went wide but she stood her ground. "I think I have a lead."

He sighed heavily, suddenly seeming years older. "Is there any way I can talk you out of this?"

"Nope."

He gave her a hard look, but she stared back. After a few moments of intense silence, he relented, dropping his shoulders in defeat. As he trudged off, he called, "I'll bring the car around whenever you're ready."

She blinked a few times in surprise. That was far easier than she'd expected. Had he finally started to trust her judgment?

Not likely. But still, she saw this as an absolute win.

She closed the door to her bedroom and headed straight for the shower. She blew out her hair, letting her curls roam wild and free, and went to her closet to pick out an outfit. She settled on an adorable pastel pink dress that ended just above her knees, along with a pair of tan wedges to give her another inch or so advantage.

She was about to walk out of her closet when she stepped on a creaky floorboard, hidden under the rug. After a quick mental debate, she pulled the rug off to the side, removed the board, and reached into the hollowed out area below. She pulled out her white mask; the one Kathryn had given her, the one that'd belonged to her father. Every time she saw it, she thought of her father's portrait in that hallway. He'd fought for this city on two fronts, as Thomas Wayne in the day and as a man in an owl mask in the night.

She raised the mask to her own face and looked up at the mirror. A stranger was staring back, a woman in an owl mask, someone with power, someone who could make a real difference in the city.

A thought crossed her mind: Which side of her father had been the real one? Thomas Wayne or the man in the owl mask?

She pushed the idea away immediately, ripping the mask off her face and stuffing it into a small purse. She put the floorboard back and pulled the rug over it. She walked over to her desk, grabbed a pencil and piece of paper, and then turned and jogged out of her room and down the hall.

She knew the answer to the question. Thomas Wayne was her father. He was a good man, flawed, yes, but good. He'd raised her to become who she was today, and he'd taken up that mask to protect her.

Yet how many times had he lied to her? To Alfred? Had he even told her mother? That mask, the very same one that was burning a hole in her purse, had gotten them both killed, and her mother might've never known the difference.

Would a good man keep secrets like that? Lie to the people he loved?

Then again, who was she to judge anyone for keeping secrets?

* * *

Out of the blue, Selina shouted at Alfred to stop the car. She'd been lost in a world of her own thoughts, nearly missing her first stop. He swerved across two lanes of traffic and screeched into a tight parking spot. He put the car into park and sunk into his seat with a sigh of relief. "Next time, Miss Wayne, if you won't tell me where we're going, it'd be best for you to pay attention."

She nodded, absentmindedly agreeing, "Yeah, sure thing, next time…" before stepping out of the car.

He shouted through the closing door, "Where are you going?!"

"I'll only be a minute," she called back as the car door slammed shut. She pulled the piece of paper out of her purse and read over the message one last time. It was awkwardly worded and the sentences were clunky but it got the point across, so it'd just have to do.

She walked up to the side of the building and pulled the fire escape ladder down to eye level. She lifted herself up onto the first platform, a gust of wind quickly reminding her that she was wearing a dress. She huffed in annoyance, making a mental note to never wear a skirt to the city, again. After securing the fabric the best she could, she scaled up the rest of the fire escape to the fifth floor. She peered inside the window, noting the very different furniture from Bruce's apartment, as well as the old married couple staring back at her.

She was off by one…

She waved and moved out of the window frame, walking to the far side of the platform. She glanced down and saw Alfred staring up at her, his jaw practically on the floor. She'd forgotten that he'd never seen her climb before... She ignored him, climbing onto the railing and pouncing across the gap to the adjacent fire escape. She caught the opposite railing and hauled herself over it. Alfred was probably having a heart attack right about now. She peaked inside the new window. Thank God, she recognized the furniture. She knocked on the glass loudly and waited for a solid minute, but no one came to open it.

He must've not been home…

She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and went to work on the window's lock. It clicked open surprisingly easy. She made a mental note to remind him to get better locks. She slid the window all the way open and placed the slip of paper on the windowsill.

With that done, she quickly dropped down the fire escape to the cement below. Alfred's eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. She walked right past him and climbed into the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Alfred eventually overcame his shock and stepped into the car as well. He cleared his throat. "Were the stairs a nonviable option?" She gave a slight shrug. "That Kyle boy taught you that didn't he?"

She smirked. "He taught me a lot more than that." Alfred scrunched up his eyebrows, probably searching for a double meaning in her words. She rolled her eyes, "And you know his name, Alfred. You don't have to call him 'that Kyle boy' anymore."

He scoffed. "Like hell I don't. I take it that was his flat?" She nodded. "You're extending the invitation to Doc Thompkins' engagement party to him?" She nodded again. "Well, I must say, I'm impressed by _that Kyle boy_. I assumed he lived in a gutter or something of the sort."

"Just drive. And be nice," she chided.

He huffed, muttering, "There are a thousand young men in Gotham but _no_ …she had to pick _that_ one."

"I thought you liked him," Selina objected. "You shook his hand and everything after the breakout."

"Because he protected you," Alfred replied quickly, pulling out of the parking spot and driving further into the city. "I do not and will never like that boy. He's dangerous."

"Maybe if you gave him a chance, he'd change your mind. He's a good guy."

"Who steals for a living."

"He doesn't do that anymore!" she objected.

"Really? Then how does he pay for that apartment?"

"He captures Strange's monsters," Selina responded. She regretted the words the second they came out of her mouth.

Alfred shook his head and sighed in exasperation. "As I said: dangerous."

She rolled her eyes and stared out the window at the city passing by. Bruce was out there somewhere. Was he dangerous? Yes, of course. But he'd never hurt her. In fact, he was his most dangerous when he was protecting her.

Some small, rebellious, asshole-ish part of her brain forced a picture to the front of her mind: Bruce's cold, dead eyes staring down at her as she faded from consciousness.

She pushed the memory down. She needed to focus. Her hand drifted to her purse where her owl mask was safely tucked away. If her hunch was correct, that mask could be the key to everything. Or it wouldn't mean a thing and she was about to get herself killed.

* * *

The car pulled up to the old, three story abandoned building. The windows were all broken or boarded up, the roof was in shambles, and the white paint had been peeled off in strips.

She'd been here once before, and she'd barely gotten out with her life.

So, naturally, she walked straight inside without a moment's hesitation. Alfred jogged after her, yelling at her to slow down and take a moment to think about this, but she was done thinking. This was ending in one of two ways: she was walking out alive with new information, or she'd be with her parents again. The former option was preferable to the latter, but she was at peace with both.

She stood in the doorway as light filled the dark, dusty hallways. The place smelled awful, even worse than it had when she'd first come here with Karen nearly a year ago. A glint in the corner of her eye grabbed her attention.

Lodged in the frame of the door was a throwing knife, the same one that the man in the black owl mask had thrown at them as they fled the building. She had half a mind to take the knife for herself, but she was already armed. There was no point in her having two knives, and even then, against someone like the guy who'd attacked them, what good would a knife do?

Still, she kept her right hand firmly on the hilt of her switchblade, hidden in her purse next to the owl mask. She took a few steps forwards, gazing around at the large foyer area.

The door slammed shut behind her.

She shrieked and drew her blade, flicking it open and whipping around to defend herself. Before she knew it, someone had twisted her wrist, her knife had clattered to the floor, and there was another blade at her throat.

As she stared up at the man in the black owl mask, she felt true dread. She couldn't see his eyes, but she had a feeling they were the same cold, dead ones as Bruce's lookalike. She raised her hands in surrender.

Alfred started banging on the door, yelling if she was alright and demanding to know what was happening inside the room. She remained silent and Alfred apparently took that as a signal to try and break the door down. He rammed it several times, but the door barely budged.

Finally, she yelled, "Alfred, stop!" and he went quiet. "I'm fine, just stay where you are!"

"What's happening in there?!" he called back.

She scoffed in annoyance, dropping her arms to her sides in a huff. "I found him, the one Kathryn sent me to introduce myself to." The man in the owl mask remained silent, but she felt his arm falter slightly at Kathryn's name. Selina put on her best billionaire-brat act and complained, "Are you gonna put the knife down now, or are you going to kill your employer?" She was grasping at straws, but it seemed to be working.

He didn't remove the knife, but he finally spoke. His voice was cold and sounded like a lifetime smoker's, like sandpaper. "Prove yourself," he rasped.

She reached into her bag and removed her white owl mask, placing it on her face. "That good enough?" she whined.

He lowered the knife and put it away, dropping into a low bow. "My sincerest apologies, Madam Selina. I did not know the Court of Owls accepted members so young. Again, my truest apologies."

The Court?

Twenty seconds in and she already had new information about the group. Also, he knew her name already, which was odd to say the least.

She nodded. "Whatever. Kathryn wanted you to debrief me on the Court's...current operations."

"Of course, Madam Selina." He reached for the back of his mask and pulled it off. He looked young, probably mid to late twenties, maybe early thirties. He had light brown hair and green eyes, and very good looking facial features. He would've been hot if it wasn't for his skin. She could see straight through it, every vein, every skeletal structure, everything. Whole patches of his flesh were peeling off, just hanging from his face. He looked like a ghost and a zombie had a kid, then sent it to the arctic to be raised by the abominable snowman.

She wanted to retch.

"Where would you like me to start, Madam Selina?" he asked, unfazed by her discomfort.

She knew the answer immediately. It'd been all she'd thought about for over three weeks. But she had to get there naturally, make sure her new friend didn't get suspicious. She needed to start slow. "What is your name?"

"Talon," the man replied.

Okay…maybe that was a code name or a nickname of something… "Talon?" He nodded. "Okay, Talon, did you throw that knife?" she asked, pointing at the blade lodged in the doorframe.

He nodded. "Yes, Madam Selina. I threw it yesterday."

She knit her brow. "Yesterday?" He nodded, his expression completely blank. "Are you sure you didn't throw it nine months ago?"

"Yes, Madam Selina, I threw it yesterday. Mission Report: Three assailants entered the compound. I stalked them and, when confronted, I moved to flush them out as I was instructed. One, Alfred Pennyworth, was armed with a pistol and was able to shoot me," he pointed to the dent in his chest armor, "the second was a former patient of Pinewood Farms, Karen Jennings, and the third was Selina Wayne, daughter of Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne, heiress to Wayne Enterprises. I reported their escape to Madam Kathryn. I returned to my post, as ordered."

She nodded, somewhat unnerved that Talon knew that he'd chased her out of Pinewood Farms (supposedly yesterday), and now was suddenly acting like her mindless servant, all because of a mask.

Before asking about Bruce, she decided to try one more question. "Talon, what year is it?"

Without a moment's hesitation, he answered, "1843."

Well…that was interesting.

So, Talon thought it was decades earlier that it actually was, he thought nine months ago was yesterday, his skin was decaying, but he looked like he was at most a thirty year old.

"Talon, can you show me your post, please?" she asked.

He nodded. "Of course, Madam Selina. Follow me." He led her deeper into Pinewood Farms, up two flights of stairs, down another pair of hallways, past a rotting corpse of the security guard Talon had killed nine months ago (which explained the horrible smell), and up a secret ladder.

They ended up in the attic. Sitting in the back, covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust, was a capsule, about eight or nine feet tall. It's doors hung open, revealing hundreds of needles poking out of the back of the chamber. There was a small platform, presumably where Talon would stand. Even from a few dozen feet away, Selina could feel the bitter cold emanating from the chamber.

The whole thing looked like it'd jumped straight off the page of a sci-fi novel, but here it was, very much real.

"Do you…sleep in that?" she asked through chattering teeth. She was standing across the room, yet her hands were starting to feel numb. Just how cold was it in there?

Talon didn't seem to notice the cold. He walked right up to the machine and nodded, stepping onto the ledge and taking up position. "I've been positioned here ever since Madam Kathryn found me."

Selina furrowed her brow. Now, Kathryn looked old, sure, but 1843? That was hard to believe.

She mentally took a step back and reviewed the facts (according to Talon):

One: Talon claimed to have been recruited into the Court no later than 1843.

Two: Talon claimed that Kathryn had been the one who'd recruited/found him and brought him into the Court.

Three: Both Kathryn and Talon were alive today, over a century later.

Four: Talon resembled a twenty or thirty year old man, even if his skin was disintegrating.

Five: He seemed to have no concept of time, confidently claiming that the year was 1843.

Six: Talon lived in a freezer, presumably preserving his body until he was needed.

From all of that, a new question popped up in her mind. "Talon, are there more of you? Men in the black owl masks, I mean."

He nodded. "Of course, Madam Selina. I am just one of many Talon."

"How many?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I do not know, Madam Selina. When I took my post, there were four hundred and seventy-one Talon. Although, that was only a year ago, so I predict the number has increased."

Her knees almost went out from underneath her. Four hundred and seventy-one of these people… How could she possibly find the Bruce lookalike in such a large group?

There was a crashing sound downstairs. Talon's eyes went wide and he reported in a robotic voice: "Intruder in the foyer. Alfred Pennyworth, age: 59, occupation: butler/guardian to Selina Wayne, daughter of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Shall I move to eliminate, Madam Selina?"

"No!" she stated, a bit louder than she'd meant. "No, just, stay where you are. I will deal with the butler personally."

He nodded. "Yes, Madam Selina. Do I have permission to return to my post?"

She shrugged. "Sure, yeah, whatever, do that."

"Thank you, Madam Selina," he stated before leaning back into the pod. There was a sickening sound of a hundred long needles piercing his back, but he didn't even flinch. The pod's doors closed and the cold disappeared.

She turned and sprinted back down the hallways, her mind racing with all that she'd just learned. Mid-sprint, she ripped off her mask and shoved it into her purse hastily. And it was a good thing she did, because not five seconds later she ran straight into Alfred, knocking them both flat on the floor. She recovered first and helped him to his feet.

He demanded, "Where is the son of a–?" but Selina latched onto the sleeve of his shirt and dragged him back down the stairs before he could do something stupid.

"Don't get yourself killed, please," she said over her shoulder as they neared the broken-down door.

"Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm fine and I was getting information from that guy before _you_ had to go and ruin everything. Thanks for that," she complained as they neared their car. Alfred had stopped struggling so she let go of his sleeve.

"You did what?!" he demanded, all the while checking her for injuries.

"I found one of the guys in the black owl masks. They're called Talon, by the way. I convinced him I worked with Kathryn and he told me everything I wanted to know. Then _someone_ had to break in even though I specifically said to stay put."

He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "First off: I give the orders here, not you. This is dangerous stuff you're meddling in and I won't have you die on my watch. Second off: you didn't sound fine, and when I called your name you didn't answer so what choice did I have but to assume you'd been hurt?" He took a deep breath. "And third: what did you find?"

She smirked. "Well, I got a name for the group." He arched his brow in surprise. "They're called the Court."

"The Court? Court of what?" he asked.

She shrugged. "No idea, but that's not important." She paused, not entirely sure how to tell him the other thing she'd discovered. She settled on a direct approach. "And the Court has the secret to immortality…kind of."

Alfred blinked. "Is that a joke?"

She shook her head. "No, it isn't. The guy I talked to thought it was 1843, and he was maybe thirty years old."

He sighed heavily, opening her car door for her. "Well…that's…interesting."

She nodded, muttering, "That's a word for it." So much had happened so quickly… She finally had information on the men in the black owl masks, and it only left her with more questions. Mainly: if they'd found a method of immortality, what else could they do? Change their voices? Change their fingerprints? Their faces?

Next time, she'd start there, figure out all that the Talon could do. But for now, she knew for certain that the Bruce lookalike was one of them, and, judging by what she'd seen from the two Talons she'd run into, they were dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

She needed to keep digging, but that'd have to wait for tomorrow.

Right now, she was late for an engagement party.

* * *

He was waiting outside the building when Alfred pulled up. She saw him immediately and had to take a moment to collect herself. What was it about a suit that automatically makes a guy even hotter? He wore a simple outfit of black slacks, a white button-down, and a skinny black tie. A leather jacket was strewn casually over his shoulder.

Yeah, he was hot, no doubt about it.

Alfred cleared his throat, reminding her of his existence. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you up? I'd like to offer the bride my congratulations in person…"

She looked at Bruce, then at Alfred, and then back at Bruce. "No, I'm fine. I'll call you when we're done," she said still staring out the darkened window of the limousine.

Alfred sighed. "Of course, Miss Wayne. I'll be awaiting your call."

Selina tore her eyes away from Bruce just long enough for Alfred to see her huge smile, the joy and anticipation and uncertainty and excitement in her eyes that could only be caused by young love.

His scowl melted. How long had it been since she looked this happy, this carefree? Dare he say it, she looked like a normal teenage girl about to go on her first date. He smiled. "Selina, you are a beautiful young woman, and I cannot tell you how proud I am of who you've become," he stated. She stared at him, taken completely off guard by the rare praise. "Now go have fun before I change my mind," he ordered.

She gave him one last smile and climbed out of the car, closing the door behind her and taking a moment to straighten out her dress. The limo pulled off and she took a deep breath.

' _Here we go, Cat_ ,' she told herself. ' _Don't screw this up_.'

She took a step forwards and his eyes caught hers. She almost tripped on air. Quickly recovering, she slowly walked towards him, knowing full and well that he was checking her out and not a giving damn about it because she knew she was hot.

"You clean up nice," she commented, eyeing him up and down.

He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "So do you. You should wear dresses more often."

"And you should wear that dirty old jacket less often," she rebutted.

His eyes went wide. "Oh yeah? I seem to remember you liking me in this jacket…"

"Nine months ago when it didn't reek."

He rolled his eyes and held out his arm. "Well, if you ever want to buy me a new one, feel free. You are the billionaire."

She took his hand, a warm feeling shooting up her arm as she did so. If she had a witty response to his comment about her financial situation, it wasn't coming to mind.

They followed the steady stream of people entering the building's elevator, all dressed in similarly fancy clothes to themselves. Selina watched Bruce's eyes jump from a man's watch to a woman's broach to another woman's purse to another man's wallet, all within the span of a few seconds. Once a thief, always a thief.

"Don't," she whispered in his ear.

He furrowed his brow. "Don't what?"

"Don't steal anything. Please? Just for tonight."

He sighed sadly and she elbowed him. " _Fine_ ," he mumbled. "Just for tonight."

Selina pecked him on the cheek. "Good, because you're gonna be too busy, anyways," she said as the elevator doors rolled open. She dragged him out of the car and made a beeline for Lee. After a few quick greetings, including Lee telling them extensively how she'd predicted them being a couple all along, Selina congratulated her on her engagement with Mario Falcone. Selina didn't notice, but Bruce's eyes went wide at the name and he started casually looking around the room. They eventually got out of the way for the long line of people waiting to greet her and Selina dragged him off to the dance floor.

She tried to put his arms around her waist, but he kept them firm against his sides, his brow furrowed as he scanned the room.

"What is it?" she asked, turning to follow his gaze.

"Have you seen Falcone?" he asked. "Carmine, I mean."

She scanned the room, getting up on her tippy toes to get a better angle. She shook her head. "No, I don't see him. Maybe he's late?"

Bruce nodded, but he didn't seem content with the answer. It felt odd to Selina, too. What kind of father would miss his own son's engagement party? Bruce shrugged, taking her left hand in his right and placing his other hand on her hip. "Doesn't matter..." he muttered. His eyes cleared up, master detective Bruce Kyle being replaced with easygoing, playful Bruce Kyle in a matter of milliseconds. "So, what've you been so busy with?" he asked as they started to waltz around the room.

She shook her head, waving it off. "Just following up a loose end about the secret society running my company, you know, the usual."

He smirked. "Well, if you need any help with that, let me know, okay? I'm always available."

She nodded. "Thanks…but this situation is more _my_ expertise. If I need anyone punched, I'll let you know."

He placed his hand across his chest and mocked hurt. "How dare you! I'll have you know I can do a lot more than punch people." He smirked and waggled his eyebrows, again. "A lot more…" She stifled a laugh. He cringed, the smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Was that as horrible as I think it was?"

She nodded, also cringing. "Yup, it pretty much was. But, in all seriousness," she started, placing both of her arms around his neck and intertwining her fingers, "if something is seriously wrong, you'll be the first to know."

He gave a curt nod, but, to be honest, he wasn't entirely convinced. Still, they kept dancing around the floor, gaining dozens of confused looks from the fellow Gotham elites, seeing Selina Wayne dancing with some unknown boy.

On one particular song, she wrapped her arms tight around his waist and rested the side of her head on his chest. "This is way easier than I thought it'd be," she commented. "Us being a couple."

Bruce took half a step back and gave her a weird look. "Cat…this is the first time we've spoken since the Sirens. It's been three weeks."

She blushed. "Sorry. I've been busy."

He shrugged, pulling her back into his arms. "That's fair. I have been, too."

She lowered her voice to a whisper and asked, "Did you have a job with the League?"

He shook his head and hummed a 'no'. "I haven't heard from them since Bludhaven. Actually, I've been going after a bounty."

"I thought all of Fish's freaks vanished a few weeks ago," she said.

"Yeah, they did. I was going after someone else, some guy named Jervis Tetch. Have you heard of him?"

She nodded. "The guy who tried to kill Jim Gordon, right?"

"That's the one. He killed his sister, impaled her on an exposed pipe."

"That's awful," she muttered.

He nodded. "Yeah, he's a real psycho, but he's in the wind right now. Cops are paying up to three thousand dollars for help finding him, but our 'beloved mayor' approved a ten thousand dollar reward for bringing him in yourself, alive of course. Even Cobblepot can't openly endorse murder…"

"Did you find anything?" she asked, holding him even tighter.

He shrugged. "I have a few leads, nothing solid, but I'm waiting for Jean to get back before I do anything _too_ stupid."

"He's not back yet?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, but it's fine. This isn't the first time he's done this; disappear for a few weeks at a time, total radio silence, and then pop back up in Gotham like nothing happened. He'll be back sooner or later." He smirked. "Lucky for me, I got the apartment to myself."

She chuckled, asking, "Have you thrown any wild parties, yet?"

He scoffed. "Why would I need to throw a party when my girlfriend is always dragging me off to one?"

For a moment, Selina had a mild mental panic. Girlfriend? Who the hell was he dating? Was he back with Zee? Maybe one of his co-workers from the League? Whoever she was, Selina was gonna find that bitch and claw her eyes out…

Then, he kissed her on the forehead.

Oh…right.

 _She_ was his girlfriend.

She got all warm and tingly inside. She hugged him even tighter and put her head back on his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment for all it was. _She_ was his girlfriend. After three and a half years, he'd finally asked her out.

Was this a date?

This might be a date…

Holy shit! She was on a date! She hadn't even realized!

She got a stupid grin on her face and nuzzled up against his chest. He was her boyfriend…

No, that wasn't the right word for him. They were way past simple boyfriend/girlfriend terms. Was it technically the correct role description? Yes. But boyfriend just meant you liked a guy and wanted to date him. It felt shallow.

He was so much more than that.

Whatever safety and security she felt from that drawer of her parents' photos, his arms gave her just as much, if not even more. That drawer was full of uncertainty. No matter how pure his intentions were, those photos were tainted by her father's lies, his secrets. But Bruce? He'd never lie to her. He was a lighthouse in the storm of her life, always there, always constant.

Even three and a half years ago when he'd lived with them for two months, he was always reliable. They were so different back then, so young. Everything had been so easy.

She remembered having a snow-ball fight with bagels in her father's study. She remembered when he'd helped her conquer her fear of heights, not by defeating it, but by accepting it. She remembered stupid, insignificant stuff, like going swimming, having meals, walking around the Manor, reading in the library, stealing food from the kitchen, playing epic games of one-on-one hide-and-seek (which often lasted hours).

In every memory she had of that time, they'd been conjoined at the hip. No wonder Lee had suspected something. She'd been right all along.

Three and a half years later, here they were, two teenagers, one the heiress apparent to a Fortune 500 company, the other a professional bounty hunter and part-time assassin who prowled the streets for monsters and criminals. Sure, they'd changed a lot since those two months in the Manor, but they'd remained the same at heart, two scared kids who found peace in each other.

Was it sappy? Yes. Was she a hopeless romantic? Yes. Would Bruce laugh in her face if she said any of this aloud? Yes. But that didn't make any of it less true.

She looked up, staring at his big, dark brown eyes.

She never wanted this to change. Screw anyone who thought otherwise.

 **A/N: Once again, so sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been…busy, to put it lightly. It's been a good busy and I've had a great couple of weeks, and some of my busyness has been of my own choice (such as playing through the entire Batman Arkham Trilogy and watching almost all of Young Justice Season 1), so sorry about that. Like I said, I really wanted to get this one right because it's such an important chapter for both Selina's investigation into the Court (which she now knows the name of) and the BatCat arc.**

 **And, finally, the Jack Napier Chapter is next up (the plot of which was foreshadowed in this chapter). It will definitely not be out this Sunday, but I'll try and get it out either mid-week or the next weekend because I'm actually going on a short vacation with my extended family (which is not optional) and I won't have access to my laptop or the internet so…yeah. Thanks again for your patience.**

 **If you enjoyed or have any comments/critiques/concerns about the chapter, please make sure to Review! Also, we are** _ **so close**_ **to 100 Favs/Follows, so if you have an account and you haven't done that yet, please do! I don't like asking for them but it would really mean a lot to pass that milestone since it's something I've never done before. So yeah, thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	39. Mister J

**A/N: I'm alive!**

 **Sorry for the extended break between updates. To be entirely honest, I was kinda losing interest in continuing this series. Not having new content to get excited about has made it a lot harder to stay inspired. Plus, I'd been writing a chapter every week (or at least attempting to do so) since December. I was simply exhausted of** _ **Gotham**_ **, and as I read over my previous five chapters or so, I realized that almost every one of them started with me apologizing for delays. So, I decided to give myself some time away from the series and then come back when I felt ready to continue. And I'm so glad I did because now I feel refreshed and excited for what comes next, and I can't wait to show it to you. Thank you for your patience. I hope to repay it with what's to come in this series.**

 **So this chapter is the third retelling of the events of Chapter 34/36 and it's from Jack's perspective. With that out of the way, here's Chapter 39 of** _ **Roles Reversed**_ **. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Mister J**

As the Flea closed up for the night, Jack Napier fingered through his black pocketbook. Earlier that day, Selina Wayne had come by demanding any information he had on the whereabouts of Bruce Kyle. She had tried to play it off as if Bruce going missing wasn't a big deal, but her eyes told a different story. She was worried.

Granted, she should be. Jack of all people knew that for certain. It was good he'd stuffed away his small, black notebook when he did. Had she seen the contents of it, two whole weeks of work and months of scheming would've been all for naught and his long-term plans would've been brought to a complete halt.

Luckily, she'd seemed too distracted to notice him stash the book away in his jacket.

He told her that he'd pass on the message that she was looking for Bruce. He could've let her go after that, but he saw an chance to get under her skin. He was not one to let such an opportunity pass, so he asked her if Bruce had told her about his 'new job' yet. She asked if he meant working as a bounty hunter, and he smiled. He said that he'd meant the other one.

Her brow furrowed and she asked, "What other one?"

That was all he needed to know. Bruce, that rascal. Holding out on his girlfriend, was he? He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, dismissing the topic just a rumor, the jobs Bruce had done, the _things_ he'd done. He told her that he wasn't one for spreading rumors, but some of the ones he'd heard were pretty damn convincing…

And that was all it took to make Selina Wayne snap.

It was almost impressive how fast she moved, jumping across his desk and landing on the other side with a knife to his throat, all in one fluid movement. She'd pressed the knife down into his jugular. She hissed at him to tell her what he knew.

He simply smiled. One day a scared little girl running away from assassins, seeking refuge in his street mall, the next she's threatening him for information. It almost brought a tear to his eye. They grew up so fast.

And she had grown up, in many ways… He figured he'd take the opportunity presented, since she'd gotten so close of her own accord, and he eyed her up and down. How could Bruce keep all of that for himself? The selfish bastard.

She pressed the knife down a little harder, but he wasn't scared. She didn't know it, but he had a knife, too, hovering just above her spinal cord. In one motion, he could knock her knife away and drive his own through her back. She'd be completely helpless…and with Bruce missing, who would be the wiser if he had a little fun?

It was truly tempting, but word would eventually get out that Selina Wayne had gone missing after a conversation with him. Bruce, being the intelligent lad he was, would put two and two together, and no matter how much fear Jack had put into Bruce over the years, he'd come looking for him, fueled by blind vengeance. A severely pissed off Bruce Kyle was a dangerous thing.

He rolled his eyes, saying that all he'd heard was that he was working for someone in the Underworld. Someone a hell of a lot worse than Penguin. She asked who and he replied that he'd never gotten a name.

Which, up until the night prior, would have been a perfectly true statement.

He diverted the subject, telling her that, if she didn't believe him, she should go ask Bruce himself. Didn't she trust him?

Her gaze went darker, more vicious than he would've thought possible. For a split second, he really believed she was going to split his neck open, right then and there. Half of him was tempted to let her do it, while the other half, the half that actually cared about living, screamed at him to stab her first.

But the glare died and she let go of his collar, sliding her knife back into her shirt sleeve. He set his own knife down on his leg, hiding it under his hand. He rubbed his neck as she stalked off. As she rounded the corner, he shouted that he couldn't wait for the next time they met.

He'd be seeing her again, very, very soon. He was certain of it.

When she was gone, he removed the black book from his jacket and flipped it open to the page he'd been reading for the fifteenth time. He'd learned so much in two weeks, and it was all thanks to one man.

Too bad he'd have to wait until the Flea closed for the night to get more information. After all, information was money. He knew something about everyone who was anyone, something horrible or embarrassing enough to bend even the most strong-willed of people to his every whim.

Take Penguin for example. He knew something about Cobblepot that very few others did. It wasn't too difficult to figure out if you watched him for long enough, and it wasn't anything too big of a deal, but it would still be half-decent blackmail if he ever needed it, especially now that he was mayor.

But there was a difference between little secrets, like the info he had on Cobblepot's…preferences, and the big secrets, the ones that could bring down entire corporations in a day, the ones that could cause a war capable of destroying cities, the ones that could result in massive loss of life. Those secrets were far rarer, and thereby far more precious to him. And if you found someone who knew secrets like that, well…you struck gold.

* * *

Finally, the guards ushered out the last few stragglers for the night. Most of his crew went on their separate ways, but a few climbed up the stairs to his balcony office. Among them were his top lieutenants: Ben Turner, Eric Needham, and, his most recent hires, the Abramovici Twins, Hammer and Sickle. They were these two massive guys from some place in Europe, he didn't care to ask, who'd been born attached at the shoulder, and thereby only had one arm each. He'd picked them up from some Russian mobster's crew after they'd gotten annihilated by Cobblepot, only a few short days before Oswald himself had gotten run out of town. Now lost and looking for a job, Hammer and Sickle fell in line and joined up with him. They'd been a perfect addition to his staff, along with Ben, who was basically Bruce with a larger collection of knives, and Eric, a former circus performer whose talent for theft was second to none. His little crew was coming together nicely. And that wasn't even mentioning his interrogator, Phillip Miles, aka The Dentist, who had been hard at work all day, every day for the past couple of weeks.

The Flea doors slammed shut and Jack let out a long sigh. "Any trouble today, boys?" he asked as he fished around in his desk for a set of keys.

Eric slumped into one of the chairs and kicked his feet up on the desk. He reported in a bored voice, "Caught a pair of shoplifters, stopped a fist-fight…eventually, there was a noise complaint from the old dude next door, again…"

"Nothing too out of the ordinary, then," Jack concluded, finally getting hold of his keys. "Did you take care of the shoplifters?"

Eric grinned and nodded. "We made 'em chop each other's fingers off, said they could only have ten between 'em when they were done. We didn't say how to split 'em up."

Jack chuckled. "How'd that go?"

"One was a lot bigger than the other," Ben growled, his brow furrowed with distain.

"And he _really_ wanted to keep his fingers," Eric chimed in, tapping his own digits on his knees. "His poor partner never stood a chance."

"But there was something else, too," Ben stated. "There was a man here today, later in the afternoon."

"Oh, you mean the big guy in the suit?" Eric asked excitedly. He took over for Ben, chattering off, "Yeah, the dude was _huge_. I'm talking bigger than the Twins," he said, gesturing to the hulking figures behind him. "No offence, boys." They grunted, although he wasn't sure if it was a yes or no.

Ben butt in, " _Anyways_ , this guy walked in, took a long look around the place, and then walked back out."

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Did he say anything?" Ben shook his head. "Did you recognize him?" Jack asked. The Twins trudged over to the bookshelf on the wall and began pushing it aside.

Ben shook his head, again. "Never seen him before in my life. He was big and tan, Middle-Eastern, but otherwise he was kind of…bland."

"Boring is the word you're looking for," Eric corrected, taking out his knife and absentmindedly carving figure-eights on Jack's desk. "But _Ben_ made me follow him anyways," he complained.

"Did you find anything?" Jack asked as the Twins finally shoved the bookshelf out of the way, revealing a hidden door.

"No," Ben answered, "Eric lost him in the city."

Jack set his keys down on the desk and the room went dead quiet. Ben paled, quickly realizing what he'd just done, and even the Twins shifted their weight between their feet nervously. Eric kept his gaze firmly on the ground. "Is that true, Eric?" Jack asked, his voice light and unassuming. Eric gave a small nod. Jack sighed heavily, like a disappointed parent. "Well, my friend, I must stress to you just how lucky you are that I've had an excellent day, and therefore I'm in a good mood. I'll let this one slide. Next time will be very different. Understand?" Eric gave an even smaller nod. "Good. Now, with that settled, let's go speak to our guest. Twins, if you wouldn't mind standing guard?" They grunted. "Excellent. Turner, Needham, you're with me," Jack ordered as he picked up his keys and unlocked the door.

It opened to a service ladder, which they took down into the basement. It was dark and filthy. A steady stream of cockroaches and rats and other creepy crawlies made their way in and out of the small room. The place looked as if it hadn't been touched since Gotham was first built.

In the center of it was a metal chair on a raised platform. There was a man strapped to it. At the moment, he seemed to be passed out, although it was unclear whether it was from pain or fatigue. Either way, the room was silent except for their footsteps and another man writing notes down on a clipboard. He was leaning up against a desk covered in drills and screwdrivers and a bunch of other dentistry equipment. The majority of it was stained red, just like the captive's mouth.

Jack nodded for Eric and Ben to wait by the door, and he approached the two men. The one with the clipboard, Mr. Miles or The Dentist, gave a small bow. "Mr. Napier," he greeted.

"Philip," Jack replied, walking straight up to his captive. He opened the man's mouth and peered inside, giving a low whistle. "You've done some work."

"With sufficient results," Miles said, handing Jack the clipboard.

As he read over the notes, his smile grew wider and wider. He looked at the weary old man strapped to the chair and shook his head. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he lamented. He shrugged it off, his grin returning as quickly as it went. "Oh well. How did you find all of this? You said there was a molar with–"

"An owl engraved on it," Miles finished, nodding excitedly and fishing a plastic bag out of his pocket. Jack took it and examined the tooth inside. "I happened across it while interrogating him. He fought hard, but when you start ripping molars out…"

"Is this all he said?" Jack asked, scanning over the notes again. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Everything," Miles confirmed. "Names, dates, addresses, plans, everything. We broke him, sir."

Jack gave a short chuckle. "Yes, yes we did. Well done, Phillip. Do you mind if I take this?" he asked, shaking the tooth bag around.

Phillip nodded. "By all means, sir. If the patient wakes up, should I continue interrogations?"

Jack shook his head. "No, no, this is all I need," he said, staring at the goldmine of information in his hands. Actually, scratch that. These secrets were far more valuable than gold.

"Very well, Mr. Napier, sir. I hope you find my results to be satisfac–"

 _BANG!_

Philip slumped to the floor, a black dot on his forehead. Jack slid the revolver back in his pocket and walked towards the ladder, still intently reading over Philip's notes. The blood had drained from Eric's face. Ben stood up much straighter than usual. Jack's sudden acts of violence weren't out of character for him, not by any means, but still…Philip had been a loyal soldier. Jack hadn't even looked at him as he shot him; his eyes had never left that paper.

After a minute or two of eerie silence, Jack folded the paper in half and started towards the ladder. He wasn't smiling, but he had this look in his eye, like a predator who'd just cornered its prey.

Jack climbed up the ladder, calling over his shoulder, "Needham, get rid of the body, then stay here with our guest until I get back. Turner, you're with me."

Ben blinked a few times, looking back at Philip's body. A pair of rats had started curiously nibbling on the chunks of brain that were now scattered across the floor.

He hurried after Jack, throwing an almost sympathetic glance at Eric. As much as he disliked that kid, Jack was an entirely different animal, unpredictably violent and dangerous. Luckily, they were both on his side.

Yet, so was Philip. Tomorrow morning, he'd be rat shit.

Ben quickened his pace, starting up the ladder just as Eric had started to drag Philip's body away from the vermin. He stayed silent as he climbed up to Jack's office, trying to remain as far off his boss's radar as humanly possible. Who knew what he'd be willing to do right now? There was no doubt in Ben's mind that, if he ever crossed Jack, he'd end up just like Philip, just like the dozens of other people who'd gotten in his way.

He finally pulled himself up over the top of the ladder and into Jack's office. Jack was over at the wardrobe in the other corner, pulling on his fanciest suit. He slid a fully loaded revolver into his jacket pocket.

Ben stood silently next to the Twins, who were both completely unfazed, as Jack went about his business. He started humming something under his breath as he worked. The tune was something he'd heard before, a children's song? Yet, the way Jack hummed it, it was chilling, foreboding even. It was so familiar, but he couldn't recall the name.

He walked over to the wardrobe in the corner and switched out his white, long-sleeve button up shirt and khakis for the fanciest suit he owned. He went back and forth from Philip's notes to his own black book, rapidly scratching down whatever he deemed important enough. He put the pencil away and slid Philip's notepad into the plastic bag with the tooth, then slid the plastic bag into a satchel.

Ben flinched when Jack handed the bag to him. "Wait for half an hour after I leave and then take the bag to this address…" he instructed, scribbling down a few more words on a slip of paper. "Only stop if I call you. Do you understand?" Ben nodded quickly. "Good. Twins, stay here. We don't want our visitor from earlier to return after hours, now do we?" The Twins grunted. "Excellent. Now…" He took a deep breath, looking out over the Flea with distain. "Let's start a war."

* * *

He walked in the front door.

The receptionist, a young woman, glanced up from her paperwork, and then glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Um… I'm sorry, sir, but we're closed until morning. If you wouldn't mind–"

"I want to speak with your boss," Jack stated, ignoring her.

The lady furrowed her brow and slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, you really can't be in here right now."

He rolled his eyes and calmly removed his revolver from his coat, placing it on the lady's desk. The color drained from her face. "I want to speak with your boss," he repeated. "Kathryn, isn't it?"

The woman's shocked expression slowly faded. Even with the gun trained on her head, she sighed boredly. "Very well. Talon, if you'd escort Mr. Napier upstairs?" It took him a moment to realize she was talking to someone else, someone standing behind him. A bag was pulled over his head, and a hard grip squeezed down on the back of his neck. Jack didn't fight back, he didn't need to. The man named Talon did as the attendant asked and took him into an elevator. As a test, Jack fidgeted slightly and the man's grip on the scruff of his neck tightened significantly. The man was strong, although not so much that he could single-handedly keep Jack from slipping out of his grasp and going for his gun. Even though that wouldn't be necessary, it was nice to know that he could escape if he needed to.

The elevator, which had previously been taking them up, stopped, and the man led him out onto wooden floors. Jack went along quietly, trying to map out the maze of hallways in his head. He'd always been suspicious of this building, ever since Don Maroni, God rest his soul, had sent ten men inside to scope it out and none returned.

Had he suspected the tower to be the base of a secret society that ran Gotham? Not exactly. Although, with the way Gotham was falling deeper and deeper into madness with every passing day, it wasn't entirely shocking.

Finally, they reached a pair of double doors, which either opened on their own or were opened by another two people (which made 4 bodyguards: one holding his neck, one trailing near silently behind him, and the two at the doors), and he was led into a room slightly warmer than the hallways. The man brought him forwards and removed a chair, positioning him at a table and then shoving the chair back underneath him. He sat down and the mask was ripped off of his face. The room was dark, only lit by the giant chandelier hovering over the long, wooden table, and the fireplace positioned behind the head of the table where a woman was sitting.

She was tall and lanky, her long, bony hands folded on her lap. She had piercing blue eyes, the only part of her face not hidden by her white owl mask, and short, neatly combed white hair. She was clearly ancient, given her frail structure, yet she carried herself with an air of power. Her eyes and posture made it clear she viewed herself as the most dangerous person in the room. Oddly enough, her guards had left the room. From what he'd learned about this lady over the past two weeks, she was far too cautious to lock herself alone in a room with someone she didn't know. There had to be a physical threat somewhere…

They sat in silence for a few moments, obviously sizing each other up.

She broke the silence. Almost pleasantly, she said, "Mister Napier, we meet at last." A small, warm smile was forming on her face.

Jack grinned. "Miss Monroe, isn't it? Kathryn Monroe?" Her fake smile retreated. She seemed startled.

She sat up a little straighter, regaining her air of calm confidence. "We've been expecting you."

He nodded, quipping, "Sorry for not calling first, sweetheart. I take it you don't have a landline?" She gave him a small, insincere chuckle. "Speaking of which…" he started as he reached into his coat pocket. He did a quick scan around the room.

If someone in his line of work reached into their inner coat pocket, everyone would freak out, assuming the person was reaching for a weapon. Yet, all was still…

He removed his flip-phone from his jacket and opened it, checking his watch and then typing a word into it before closing it again. Kathryn stared silently the whole time, obviously curious of what he was doing but not wanting to give it away. Jack set the phone down on the table and continued, "Well, since you were waiting for me, I'll cut right to the chase. You got sloppy."

She grimaced, clearly trying her hardest to keep the small smile on her lips, if only to portray confidence. She didn't like being insulted, that much was clear. "How so?" she asked, even though he knew she knew what he was talking about.

"You're down a man," he stated, his mischievous smile growing more and more by the second. "It's funny, really, how an 'all powerful evil secret society' like yourselves can be taken down so easily."

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that is true. As large an organization as ourselves, well, it produces a multitude of chinks in our armor, so to speak."

He narrowed his eyes. She seemed so confident… He checked his watch again and opened his phone, typing in a quick word or two before closing it. He continued on as if nothing had happened. "Well that I can understand. In fact, my 'guest' has told me all about your empire. It's truly marvelous that you've managed to remain in the shadows, especially in today's day and age. It would be a shame if someone were to ruin that, leak your secrets to the masses…" he paused, cocking an eyebrow in a challenge, "or, even worse, to the League of Assassins…"

Kathryn narrowed her eyes. "Is that a threat, Mr. Napier?"

He laughed heartily. "What? No! No, of course that's not a threat! Would you honestly think that lowly of me? I'm appalled! No, no, no…" he reached into his other coat pocket and removed a small black book, sliding it across the table to her. " _This_ is a threat."

She took it off the table and opened it, fingering through a few pages. She snapped the book shut and nodded.

But she wasn't looking at him…

The next moment, there was a knife inside his cheek, held by a Talon.

Jack grinned. "About time," he lulled, trying to talk around the blade in his mouth. "Where was he hiding?"

Kathryn ignored him. "Mr. Napier, from what I've heard, you are not one to make such foolish decisions. I take it you have leverage?" she asked, brandishing the pocket book.

"Miss Mon– I'm sorry, can I just call you Kathryn?" he asked, ignoring her question. "It'd make this conversation so much more efficient." She glared at him, which he took as a yes. "Well, Kathryn, you've done your research. I'm a bit of a genius, if I don't say so myself," he added with a chuckle. "How is that, you ask? Well, I'd love to tell you. Have you ever heard of a dead-man's switch?" he asked in the tone of someone talking to a child.

She looked about ready to snap his neck right then and there. Still, she coolly responded, "The phone?"

Jack nodded, well, as much as he could nod with a knife at his throat. "The phone," he agreed. "You see, if I was doing this alone and you kill me, your secrets would die along with me. You'd probably burn the book, get rid of my body, and be done with it, right? Well, I can't have that. You see, Kathryn, I have _big_ plans, and if I die it'll be hard to complete them. So…I have my best man standing just across the street from the mosque on 72nd and 14th with a copy of those exact notes." Her calm demeanor slipped up for the first time. She almost looked scared. "I take it you know why?" She nodded. "And I take it you don't want him to walk across the street, knock on the door, and hand deliver all of that information right to the League of Assassins?"

"What do you want, Mr. Napier?" she snarled, the calm, collected front from before melting away to reveal a cornered animal.

"Oh, it's not about what _I_ want. It's about what _you_ want, Kathryn," he stated. "Although, I would like you to tell handsy over here to take this damn knife out of my mouth." She nodded to the Talon behind him and the Talon removed the blade. What was it with people threatening him with knives today? "Like I was saying…I'm here to help you. You see, I don't come with threats, but with glad tidings, a world rid of your enemies, a world rid of Ra's al Ghul."

She laughed. It was bitter and strained, but the sudden change of demeanor caught him off guard. "Oh, child, you understand little. We haven't fought outright with the League for generations."

He laughed in her face. "Of course you have!" he stated joyously. "Does a hospital ring any bells? A pair of newborns? A blood sample taken from the boy?"

Kathryn paled. "You broke him," she said, referring to his 'guest'.

Jack nodded. "I broke him. Wasn't his fault, really. Two weeks of torture will do that to anyone."

"So, you know about Bruce Wayne," Kathryn stated, sounding almost defeated. "Why come to us? Why not simply go to our enemies? Wipe us out?"

He shrugged. "Well, Kathryn, I did say that I'm a genius, right? Well, I'm especially good at picking the right side in fights. Maroni, Penguin, Gilzean, Penguin… I'm pretty good at this. You see, if I go to the League with the information I have right now, they'd just take it and kill me. But with _you_ , I have a safety net. I don't want to fight. In fact, I want to form a partnership. I'm willing to call my guy right now and tell him to come home, but, in exchange, I need you to do me a favor."

She nodded slowly. "What would you like us to do?"

"Fight the League outright," he stated, a wicked glint in his eyes, "face-to-face. Chaos, rivers of blood in the streets, innocents and soldiers alike dying left and right, all of that. I want you to drive the city mad."

Her brow furrowed heavily. "Why?" she asked simply.

He grinned, his eyes shining with ambition and cunning and pride. "There's a power vacuum in Gotham right now. Penguin's the mayor, Don Maroni is dead, Gilzean is a joke, and Falcone? Well, we both know his fate. Someone has to run the underworld, and it might as well be me."

"I see," Kathryn drawled. "This is all an elaborate power play, isn't it?"

He nodded. "And if you do that, if you wipe out your enemies, which I will help you do, I'll leave you alone. It's a win-win. The League dies, you get Bruce Wayne, and I get to run Hell."

She narrowed her eyes, studying him thoughtfully. Finally, she gave a small nod. "I will speak to the Court on the matter. We will contact you with our answer."

He smiled and stood up from the table. "It was a pleasure doing business with you," he stated, almost kindly. "I look forward to working with you more in the future." He started towards the doors, but paused. He called over his shoulder, "And say hi to Selina Kyle for me, will you?"

"Goodbye, Mister Napier," Kathryn stated coldly.

He snorted and walked out of the room, leaving Kathryn Monroe alone with a crackling fire and a book with all of her greatest secrets.

* * *

Ben headed home for the night after returning the satchel to the Flea. Jack had the Twins move the bookcase out of the way, and he descended to the basement. He breathed in the rotten stench of death that filled the damp, dark room. He flicked on the lights, which only lit the room up enough to see a few feet in front of you, and walked over to where his guest was strapped to his platform, forced to stand upright for two weeks. Jack kicked away a couple of giant rats which had been gnawing on his guest's exposed feet and ankles.

Jack looked at him almost pitifully. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

He took a knife off of Philip's workbench (now ownerless), and sawed off his guest's restraints. He collapsed to the concrete floor in a heap. He coughed raggedly, gasping for air through several broken ribs. Jack squatted down next to him and patted him on the back.

"Hello, Carmine," he said cheerfully.

Falcone coughed some more, but managed to wheeze out, "You son of a bitch…"

Jack shrugged. "Probably, yeah. Never met her. Anyways, I have _so much_ to tell you," he started as he walked over to Philip's workbench, placing down the knife and scanning the selection of toys for his next weapon. He called over his shoulder, "That lady you were telling me about, Kathryn? Yeah, I found her. Not gonna lie, she was kind of a bitch, but I don't blame her. She was _pissed_ at you when I told her I'd broken you, though. Well, I think it was her own fault for not putting a Talon on you from the second you came back to Gotham, but whatever. Anyways, my plans are _finally_ working out, and it's all thanks to you…" He selected a crowbar from the table and swung it around a little bit. He hoisted it onto his shoulder and walked over to where Carmine was laying in a heap, struggling to breathe. "I'm truly thankful for everything you've done for me over the past two weeks. You've been like the father I never had, guiding and encouraging me as I fulfill my destiny. The information you provided has been crucial to my success." He squatted down next to Carmine's head and continued in a dreamy voice, "There'll be a war unlike any other. Gotham will burn, and I will rise."

Carmine coughed out something that sounded like a laugh. "You're insane. Someone like you could never run Gotham."

Jack shook his head. "Not _your_ Gotham, maybe. But you've been gone a long time, old man. This city has changed. Would your Gotham have accepted me? Probably not. But _my_ Gotham will worship me." He took Carmine by the throat and forced him up onto his knees. He stood back and, imitating his favorite Gotham Rogues baseball player, lined up his swing a few times, straight to Carmine's jaw. "Too bad you'll never get to see it…"

He brought the crowbar back, and then swung it at Falcone's head as hard as he could. There was a sickening _CRACK_ , and Falcone slumped to the floor. Jack raised the crowbar up over his head and then plunged it down again. And again. And again. He didn't stop until all that was left of Falcone's head was a pile of mush and shards of bone.

He sighed in contentment and walked over to Philip's workbench, cleaning off the crowbar and replacing it. He'd have someone come by and put Carmine's body on ice. He could still prove useful.

After all, there were still Falcone's running about.

 **A/N: I hope I clarified in this chapter just how much of a sociopath Jack is (and not-so-subtly referenced who he will become one day). Mad City is coming, and it's gonna be one hell of a show. Don't worry, though. Next chapter will be right back to our bat and cat. (Also there is some foreshadowing in that last line but it's for an event a ways away from now so don't worry about it)**

 **Like I said before, sorry this took so long to get out, but I was simply burnt out on Gotham so I needed a break. Thank you for all the love and support that you guys kept sending, even after two months of silence. You guys are amazing, and I'm** _ **so**_ **glad to be back.**

 **So if you enjoyed or have any comments/critiques/concerns about the chapter, please make sure to Review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	40. Is This a Date? Pt 2

**A/N: So, life is nuts. I love writing this story but it takes a lot of time that I simply don't have. These updates are gonna be coming out very inconsistently depending on my workload. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I promise I'm seeing this story through to the end because I've put forty chapters of work into this and I'm almost halfway to the end so there's no way in hell I'm giving up. Also…forty chapters. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? It seems like just the other day I thought to myself, "huh…what if Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle had been switched at birth? I'm sure someone has already done a series on that…HOLY SHIT NO ONE HAS DONE A SERIES ON THAT YET HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT I GOT DIBS!" This experience has been an amazing one and I love you all. Thank you for sticking with me all this time.**

 **Warning: BATCAT FLUFF INCOMING. Enjoy it while it lasts.**

 **Anyways, here's Chapter 40(!) of Roles Reversed. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Is This a Date? Pt. 2**

Compared to Lee's Engagement Party, the Founders Dinner was a completely different level of high society.

Selina had been forced to attend for the past three years, being the last living Wayne. She usually just finished the meal quickly and left early, making up some cute excuse like having to do homework or just pulling the 'I'm a child and I'm tired' card. This year, however, she would have backup.

His name was Bruce, and he was about five seconds from pulling his hair out. He'd redone his tie more times than Selina could count. It was odd to see someone who was normally calm and cool and collected pushed to the brink of insanity over a high-society dinner.

Finally, she knocked his hands away from his necktie and did it herself, chiding, "You're way too worked up over this."

He rolled his eyes, watching her hands as she fixed it. "Shouldn't I be? You said the dinner is awful."

She shrugged. "Well, yeah, it is, but that's because I had to go alone. Unlike today…" She smiled up at him, tugging on his tie to bring his face down to hers. She kissed him and said through a grin, "You'll be fine."

He scoffed and turned to the mirror, straightening his shirt and tie and jacket. His hair had been neatly parted combed to the side and gelled to keep it out of his face, and he'd shaven just that morning so his face was clean and smooth. The suit fit him just about perfectly. It felt a little tight, but Selina didn't seem to mind.

She wore a simple black dress that hung to her mid-thigh, with a few gold bracelets and black flats. She looked amazing. Meanwhile, he was a frazzled, sweaty mess.

Almost sensing his anxiety, she wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled against his back. "B…" she mumbled, "relax. We'll be in and out before you know it." She turned him around and took his hands in her own. "Then we can go get a _real_ dinner, my treat."

He snorted and pulled her into a hug. "As if I'd let you pay."

There was a light knock on the study door. Alfred cleared his throat expectantly, asking, "Miss Wayne, are you and Mr. Kyle ready to depart?"

She nodded, tucking Bruce's tie into his suit and leading him out of the safety of the study. Tonight, he was Bruce Kyle, heir to a reclusive, rich family in Coast City, long-time friend of Selina Wayne and her date to the Founder's Dinner. Hopefully he wouldn't have to bring up his back-story, but it was better safe than sorry. There would be no media presence at the dinner, so he wouldn't have to worry about the tabloids digging up the truth about his identity.

They stepped into the limousine and started north, away from Gotham. He found it odd that the Founder's Dinner was held so far from the city they were celebrating founding. Representatives of all four of the Founding Families would be in attendance, exempting the exiled, and now extinct, Duma Clan. Along with the Founders would be the mayor, important politicians and businessmen, judges and kingpins, the most elite of Gotham.

Bruce had a sneaking suspicion that Ra's would be there. If what they'd told him about the League's involvement in Gotham was true, he was as much of a Founder as anyone.

Yet, the League hadn't contacted him in over two months, ever since Bludhaven. Jean was still in the wind, chasing down whatever lead he thought he'd found. Lead on what? Bruce didn't want to know. Jean could be…volatile, to put it lightly. There was good in him, too, no doubt. No one was all bad, besides maybe Jack. But some of the things he'd done in the past were just plain wrong. It was good they were on the same side now. Jean Paul-Valley was a bad enemy to have.

Selina poked him a couple of times. "You good?" she asked, a concerned smile on her face.

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"You were thinking," she stated. "That's never good. Talk to me. What's going on up there?" she asked, playfully poking his forehead.

He shrugged, glancing out the window. They were alone on a road in the middle of nowhere. Massive oak trees loomed over them like buildings. He felt uncomfortable out here, vulnerable, like he was trespassing. This wasn't Gotham.

He muttered, "I'm just nervous."

"Well don't be. I'll handle everything. Just smile and look pretty, ok? Can you do that?" she teased.

He grinned. "I thought that was your job?"

She slapped him and then grabbed his hand. "I'll be right next to you the whole time, okay? We don't have to be there long, just for dinner."

He nodded, almost feeling better about the nest of vipers they were walking into.

Almost.

The trees loomed just as large, with or without Selina at his side.

* * *

The house they arrived at was as beautiful as it was haunting. The mansion was a quarter the size of Wayne Manor, with grand, translucent windows and gothic style architecture. A yellow glow shown through glass and lit the house with a warm haze. It would've been comforting without the long, twisting shadows created by the trees, or the conveniently placed graveyard jutting off the side of the house.

The worst part was the quiet. He hated quiet. There was no such thing in Gotham. It felt so…wrong. There were no cars driving by, no hum of foot traffic, no ac units providing a natural buzz in the background, no nothing. Even for a forest, the place was eerily quiet. No birds singing or crickets chirping. Dead silence surrounded the haunting abode.

Selina took his hand. Judging by her expression, she was creeped out, too. "Come on," she mumbled, "sooner we get inside, the sooner we can leave."

He nodded, but they remained frozen there for a few seconds. She took a deep breath and started towards the house, pulling him along with her.

Something just felt…off. He didn't like it.

The door opened as they approached, an ancient man (older than Alfred even) in a well-fitting suit giving them a toothless smile. He bowed low as they approached, announcing, "Welcome, Miss Wayne, Mr. Kyle–"

A sound from behind them cut off whatever the man was going to say next. Bruce and Selina both whipped around, Bruce clenching his fists and Selina reaching to her forearm where her knife was usually hidden (although tonight she'd elected to leave it at home in exchange for Bruce's presence). A snow white owl zipped out of sight, disappearing into the tree line as quickly as it appeared.

They turned back to the old man who escorted them inside, moving with the pace of a turtle riding a slug. It was a shock the man was still alive, let alone moving around.

He led them into a cozy sitting room. Twenty or so men and women, all dressed in fancy clothing, were mingling about, laughing loudly and drinking and gossiping and having a merry old time.

It came as a shock to Bruce, a complete contrast to the exterior of the building.

He saw the District Attorney having a drink with an Uptown kingpin who was missing his left hand (presumably from having it chopped off). A chief justice was sitting in the corner with an ancient woman from one of the four families.

Selina elbowed him in the side, a sly (yet relieved) grin on her face. "See, nothing to worry abo–"

She stopped mid sentence, earning a concerned glance from Bruce. He followed her stare. An old woman (Bruce was starting to sense a theme) was sitting across the room by herself, quietly reading a book that looked just as old as her, maybe even older.

"Who's that?" Bruce asked.

Selina quickly waved him off. "Kathryn…" She stalled for a few seconds, starting to say something else, but thinking better of it and closing her mouth.

Bruce scanned the old woman. Her long, almost skeletal structure was unsettling and odd, yet undeniably regal. She wore a solid white dress with a matching blazer, her elegantly styled white hair matching it perfectly. She sat in a wheel chair by the fireplace, a young gentleman with a completely blank expression standing behind her, his jet black suit a sharp contrast to her attire.

Selina placed a hand on his arm and put on a smile. "I'm gonna go say hi. Why don't you go find us drinks?"

Before he could respond, she'd started across the room towards Kathryn. He watched her go, a pit forming in his stomach.

So much for sticking together…

He walked off in the other direction towards the small open bar. Waiters milled about with glasses of wine, but, with both of them being underage, he decided on a pair of waters instead.

An unsettlingly familiar voice behind him squawked, "Bruce Kyle! What a surprise…"

 _Shit._

He begrudgingly turned around, his worst fears becoming reality. He gave a small bow to the short man, greeting in a low voice, "Mr. Mayor. Pleasure to see you, again."

Cobblepot waved his hand in disgust. "Oh please, Bruce, call me Oswald. We've known each other far too long for such formality," he insisted.

"Yes, yes we have," Bruce agreed.

Of course the Mayor would be here.

Why hadn't he thought of this before?

"So, how is it, running Gotham?" Bruce asked, attempting to be cordial.

Oswald shrugged. "Well, it's not my first time running this city, is it?"

Bruce furrowed his brow, glancing around the living room. "Are we still in the city?"

Penguin chortled. "I have no idea. Although, if we were, most of these people wouldn't have shown up." He sighed sadly. "It is truly a shame that none of them love our city the way we do."

"We?" asked Bruce incredulously. "Gotham's tried to kill me more times than I can count. It can burn for all I care."

Oswald snorted. "Unfortunately, I feel that your viewpoint is shared among many of our fellow guests tonight. However, I believe men like you and I can change this city." He paused for a moment, licking his chops. "In fact, I believe I have just the role for you in my empire, if you're interested. With me running Gotham in the light, someone needs to control the Underworld…someone that I can trust."

Bruce sighed, remembering the similar pitch Oswald had made him a few months prior back in the Sirens. "I told you already, I'm not interested in anything you're selling. I have a life now. I don't need to steal to survive anymore."

"Why survive when you can thrive?" Penguin countered. "I'll have you living like a Wayne within a week of you joining me."

Bruce shook his head. "I'm sorry, Oswald. I'm just not interested. I'm happy where I'm at. You can find someone else to run your criminal empire. I have more important things in my life."

"Like Selina Wayne?" Oswald asked in a seemingly innocent tone, even though Bruce could see the malice dripping from his eyes. "Well done, I must say, working your way up that high. Although, I must ask, how long do you think your relationship with Miss Wayne will last? Relationships are a complicated business–"

Bruce should've kept his mouth shut. Instead, he growled, "Well you would know, wouldn't you? With Edward Nygma and all…"

Penguin's expression changed from confidence to rage in a matter of moments. "You little piece of–"

"Relax, Oswald," Bruce told him, regretting his threat and trying to do damage control. "Your secret is safe with me. I harbor no resentment towards you, and I hope you feel the same. If you stay out of my life, I'll stay out of yours, okay?"

Penguin's jaw clenched and unclenched. He put on his fakest smile and nodded. "Yes, I think those would be acceptable terms. It was nice seeing you, again, Mr. Kyle."

Bruce nodded. "And you, Mr. Mayor."

* * *

Selina stared down Kathryn. Why was she here? Well obviously she was an important figure in Gotham, far more so than the majority of the people there, but seeing her in broad daylight was a shock (kind of like an owl).

Kathryn raised her eyes from the paper as Selina approached, an almost genuine smile stretching across her long, bony face.

"Miss Wayne," she greeted passively. "How are you?"

Selina nodded. "I'm doing well, thank you, Kathryn. And you?"

Kathryn gave a light shrug. "I'm well," she stated simply. "It has been quite some time since I attended this dinner. Ever since my legs left me, I've found adventuring outside of my accommodations quite bothersome. In fact, the last Founders Dinner I attended was with your father. It was his last attendance, unfortunately…"

Selina felt a surge of anger rising in her stomach.

Over the past few weeks, she'd learned more and more about the Court. Several weeks ago when she'd returned to Pinewood Farms, she'd started to build a relationship with one of the Court's Talon. She'd gone back three more times since then to speak with him, trying to learn as much as possible about what the Talon could do exactly.

In particular, she was curious if they could change their faces, or at least create convincingly realistic masks.

Bruce had been looking down at her that night. It was his face, his eyes.

As far as her Talon informant was aware, no such ability existed among their ranks (at least not when he'd been stationed). So maybe it'd been developed after he'd been put in his capsule, or maybe there was only one of the Talon who could do it. Either way, she'd arrived at a dead end.

She'd been able to reach one conclusion though: Kathryn was holding back information. There was some secret among the Court that, if exposed, would bring down the whole operation. Selina had a bad feeling that it had something to do with Bruce. She hated Kathryn. She hated the Talon. She hated the whole goddamn Court.

But being rude to Kathryn wouldn't get her anywhere, so she put on a meek smile and nodded. "Yes, well the past is the past…"

"But we must never forget it, should we?" Kathryn asked.

"No, we mustn't," Selina agreed, matching her stare. "It was nice to see you, Kathryn, but my date is waiting."

"Ah, yes, please do wish Mr. Kyle my best. He is an upstanding young gentleman, is he not? At least, for his line of work…"

Selina's stomach twinged again. Kathryn knew full and well that someone who looked like Bruce had abducted her the night they first met. It felt like she was teasing Selina, dangling the loose strings in front of her before ripping them out of her reach, like she was playing with a kitten. She didn't like to be played with.

Selina didn't smile, she didn't even respond to Kathryn's question or her less than subtle jab. Instead, she stated, "Well I have other guests to greet, so goodbye, Kathryn."

Her face flickered with annoyance at being brushed off, but she nodded and went back to reading her book.

Selina found Bruce, holding two glasses of water. His hands were shaking. She steadied one of them as she took her glass, asking, "You alright, B?"

He gave a small nod. "Cobblepot cornered me. Offered me a spot in his empire." He snorted. "Well, it wasn't really an offer."

"Why does he want you so badly?" asked Selina.

He shrugged. "I'm good at what I do. People respect me for the most part. But, first and foremost…" he lowered his voice, "I can handle Jack."

"Napier?" Selina asked.

Bruce nodded again. "He's been getting more aggressive lately. He and Penguin have never fought before, mainly because if Jack tried to take him down right now, he'd end up at the bottom of a river. Penguin is too strong, especially with the support of the mayor's office behind him. But things are changing…" He trailed off, scanning the room for eavesdroppers and lowering his voice even more before continuing, "A lot of people want to see Penguin taken down. The king has always has enemies, especially when he climbed over so many people to get to his throne. And now that he can't spend all of his time suppressing the people who want him out, the sentiment is starting to spread."

"But why Jack of all people?" Selina asked incredulously. "He's worse than Penguin."

"I agree, but no one else has as much pull as him, besides Penguin. He's the only other option."

"Why are there never good options for leaders nowadays?" Selina moaned.

Bruce shrugged. "Great time to be growing up, huh?"

"So, why wouldn't you take the position?" Selina asked. "If you'd be keeping Jack down then wouldn't working for Penguin be a good thing?"

Bruce shook his head. "If Jack is gonna take over Gotham, I'm not getting in his way. Too big a risk. If war breaks out, I'm gonna be nowhere near it."

Selina furrowed her brow. His hand had stopped shaking but his eyes were still darting around the room. He looked more paranoid than scared now.

He sighed and lamented, "So that was my conversation. How was yours?" he asked, nodding at where the old lady in the wheelchair had been sitting a few minutes before. She must have rolled off somewhere…

"Oh, nothing. We just talked about my dad and political stuff," all of which was technically true…

Bruce grimaced. "Cat…" he practically growled.

She clenched her jaw for a few seconds, then sighed. "I'm sorry."

He looked away from her, saying in a low voice, "I thought we agreed: no more lies." His tone wasn't one of anger, just disappointment. She would've rather him be angry.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Old habits. It's just…" she looked around the room, instinctively trying to find a way to change the subject. She stopped herself and took a deep breath, reminding herself exactly why Bruce was here with her tonight. "I'm sorry, Bruce. It's just… _this_ …not keeping secrets, it's weird for me. Okay? It's weird for me."

He cracked a small grin. "It's weird for me, too. But the truth gets easier the more you tell."

"I'm sorry, Bruce," she said as he hugged her. "I'm sorry." She whispered, "But not here. _She's_ here. I'll tell you everything when we get home. Deal?"

He nodded and placed a light kiss on her forehead. "Deal."

The ancient man who'd escorted them inside walked into the sitting room and rang a bell, announcing in a raspy, weak voice, "You may now take your seats in the dining hall."

The guests filtered inside, taking their respective seats around a long dining room table. There were 16 chairs in all, split across the table. There was no chair at the head of the table, nor the bottom. It sent a message that everyone in attendance was an equal.

Bruce didn't feel that way.

He recognized the majority of the people in attendance, all of them highly important.

Then there was him, a street-rat.

They brought out glasses of the darkest red wine Bruce had ever seen, placing a glass in front of every attendee besides himself and Selina. The waiting staff was a stark contrast to the old man. Two of the men were behemoths, probably employed by Penguin or another one of the more corrupt members. The other was a small man with long, curly dark hair and even darker eyes. He wore a persistent smile that felt both comforting and unsettling. He seemed familiar…

Penguin glared at him and Bruce noticed the red stain on his formerly white shirt.

The servant had spilled wine on Penguin?

Yeah, forget the unsettling part. Bruce liked this guy already.

He weaved his way around the table, exchanging quick dialogue with several of them before disappearing into the back, along with the two hulking masses of men.

No one touched the drinks, seemingly waiting for something. Bruce started to reach for his water glass but Selina elbowed him, shaking her head no.

She whispered, "Wait for the food."

"Why?" Bruce asked.

" _Because_ ," she shot back.

He rolled his eyes and sat back, listening to the quiet small talk taking place around the table. The wine filled the room with a potent scent. He'd never been around such strong drinks before, so maybe that was normal and he was just uncultured. No one else seemed to mind the scent, so he didn't either.

Finally, after his stomach had growled a baker's dozen of times, the plates were brought out. As much as he wanted to leave, the food smelled irresistible. They placed a platter down in front of all of them and then removed the covers, filling the room with the scent of Italian food.

His stomach was begging like a dog by that point.

Bruce grabbed his fork and prepared to stuff himself to the brim with spaghetti and meatballs until the end of time.

Then, the kitchen doors slammed open, and the three waiters came back into the dining room, dressed differently from before. Instead of simple black suits and vests, the small man wore an elaborate brown trench coat and black, fur top hat, carrying a can he probably didn't need and studying the room with a wicked fascination. The two huge men still wore their waiter outfits, but they'd ripped the sleeves off to show their massive arms. If their bulging muscles weren't intimidating enough, they each held identical sawed-off shotguns.

The little man fired his revolver at the ceiling, silencing the room. Bruce, who'd immediately started to move from his seat, slowly returned to it.

Penguin, always the diplomat, demanded, "What is this? What is going on? Do you have any idea who I am?"

The little man simply smiled, replying, "I'm afraid your evening has been hijacked, Mr. Mayor…" He placed the barrel of his gun on Penguin's chest, lamenting, "I see the champagne left a mark. My apologies, truly…" He grinned and removed the pistol, announcing, "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Jervis Tetch. I promise not to take up too much of your time. But the fact is, you are the heads of Gotham. And tonight…the heads of Gotham will roll. But first…a toast. A drink to your health."

Penguin sneered at the wine. "And if we don't?"

Tetch glared at him, warning, "Change, my friends, is nigh. Drink the wine…" he put the gun up to Penguin's head, "or else you die."

This entire exchange, Bruce had been searching for a way out of the room, away from the guards. He had a knife in his belt, easily reachable from where his hands had already been resting, but what good would that do against two shotguns and a revolver? Even if he could draw it and attack, who was to say the other guests could escape unharmed? Selina would find a way out if he attacked, that much he was certain, but the possibility of civilian casualties was too great.

Then again, so what if these other people died? He and Selina were the farthest down the table from where the three men were standing, blocking the main entrance to the dining room. There was a side door leading out of the room not a few feet away from them. If he could cause a big enough distraction, they could make it. Others would get caught in the crossfire, but they could get out…

No. He scolded himself for even considering that as a reasonable possibility. There had to be another way. He knew drinking the wine would be suicide (at least for the others). Tetch seemingly didn't realize they weren't drinking the wine.

Okay, so Tetch had made a mistake. How could Bruce take advantage of that?

He studied the two shotguns, double-barreled sawed-offs. Judging by the look, they were older models. Assuming that both shotguns could only hold two shells, that was four shots at the maximum between the two behemoths. Judging by how they were holding the guns, they didn't have much experience using the firearms. They were holding the guns at eye level against their shoulders, even though the guns didn't have stocks. From all that, he suspected they'd end up pulling down both triggers at once if they fired the guns, meaning they'd only really have two shots total (and they would probably have a hard time aiming them as the recoil would be further emphasized by their poor posture).

Meanwhile, Tetch was holding a six-shooter revolver, one bullet of which he'd already fired into the ceiling to intimidate them. That meant there were a total of seven to nine shots that could be fired into the group without reloading.

That was too many.

So a head on approach wouldn't be successful, and escaping was highly unlikely with their captor's choice of firearms.

The best chance he had of getting out was to go along with Tetch's demands and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

Meanwhile, Selina was riding a completely different train of thought. Jervis Tetch…she'd heard about him. He'd been hunting his sister down for years before finally cornering her in Gotham. She'd ended up falling to her death, but there was supposedly something different about her blood. She looked at the glasses of wine that'd been given to the guests. Crimson red, as all wine was, but a perfect shade to conceal the girl's blood.

She thought she'd smelled something funny in the air.

The question became: what was in Alice Tetch's blood? Poison? That was the only real possibility. Yet, why go through all this trouble to poison them? Surely there were better ways to kill a small group of people. A bullet would suffice.

So it couldn't just be poison, there had to be something else at play, some other factor that only Tetch was aware of.

She glanced over at Bruce, his hand halfway to his knife. She breathed loudly, just enough to get his attention, and mouthed the word, "Don't."

He kept his expression blank, but she could see the wheels turning in his eyes. Surely he had to have a plan, right? He was always great in these situations. He'd find a way out of here…

His shoulders drooped slightly, and he stared hard at the mahogany table.

The message he sent was clear: they were stuck. There was no way out.

She looked around the table as everyone started to raise their glasses to their mouths. She did the same, hoping and praying for someone, anyone, to come help them. Bruce mirrored her, his eyes darting around the table.

Everyone drank the wine, Tetch insisting on them finishing it before being allowed to set the glasses down. Bruce and Selina finished their waters, then stopped and watched.

One by one the men and women of the Founder's Dinner finished their wine, and then sat and waited for what was to come next. Several tense moments of silence passed.

Then, the first person started coughing. Bruce didn't think much of it until the next person started coughing, and then the next. Then it was Penguin who was coughing.

The whole table besides himself and Selina fell into fits of coughing and gagging. One fell out of his seat and started seizing up on the floor.

Bruce sat up on the balls of his feet, preparing to spring away from the table were things to go to bad. Selina, being on the end of the table, moved her chair slightly away from it.

Gradually, the coughing died down and people started picking themselves back up. However, there was something different about them. Their eyes were completely dilated. Their expressions resembled that of wild animals.

Tetch cackled with glee.

"Run," Selina whispered, just as the mansion in the woods descended into hell.

 **A/N: Not gonna lie, I was originally planning to resolve this conflict within this chapter, but the next one feels kinda shallow whereas this chapter was jam-packed with important story moments so I'm gonna wait to finish their confrontation with Tetch until next time (which shouldn't be too long from now).**

 **Also, am I becoming predictable? I'm asking because someone reviewed: "** _ **When someone in the Gotham universe says "She never wanted this to change. Screw anyone who thought otherwise". Something BIG, is going down**_ **" and I laughed out loud when I read it because yeah you're right. I won't lie to you guys: things are gonna go wrong quickly. They started this chapter and it really doesn't get better from here. Sorry, but that's the way BatCat goes. We're only halfway through this season and about halfway through the series, so don't expect things to go too right. We have a long ways to go before the happily ever after.**

 **Anyways, thanks for keeping up and checking up with me so much. If you're ever concerned about whether or not I'm continuing this series, don't be. I love this story so much. It's a huge part of my life that I've spent years working on, and I'm not abandoning it.**

 **So I hope you enjoyed and, if you did, please make sure to review. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


	41. Run Boy Run

**A/N: Welcome back. I'll admit that this one was incredibly difficult to write for me. I'm not particularly great at writing action. I can see the whole scene playing out in my head, but actually putting it on paper is** _ **way**_ **hard. Also, school is hell. But I wanted to get this right, so thanks for your patience.**

 **Here's Chapter 41 of Roles Reversed. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Run Boy Run**

They crashed through the door leading out of the dining room, a spray of shot littering the door frame as they passed through. The pellets barely missed Bruce's trailing leg.

He glanced over his shoulder, studying the spread on the door frame. Half a meter in diameter…maybe smaller.

Good. If the shotguns had wider spreads, escaping into the woods would be far more difficult. In a close-quarters situation, a smaller radius meant less chance of getting hit by a stray shot.

He heard Tetch scream to chase them, then two more shots fired in the dining room.

Bruce's stomach dropped as he heard the screams.

No matter, he couldn't help them. Not right now. He was unarmed and outnumbered, not to mention there were eighteen of Gotham's most fortunate going insane in the room behind them.

Selina dragged him through the first open door. The room was small and cozy, a library of sorts. Besides the door they'd entered through, there was a second door directly across from it, also open. He could see the door leading out of the house, just one hallway down from the room they'd just entered. Selina made a run for it, but he slammed on breaks and pulled her flat against the wall.

She hissed at him, " _What are you doing_?"

He shushed her. "Trust me," he murmured. Then, at the top of his lungs, he yelled, "THERE'S THE DOOR! COME ON!"

" _What the hell_!?" she exclaimed.

" _Trust me_ ," he shot back in a hush.

A pair of giant, lumbering footsteps barreled down the hallway.

Goon 1 was approaching, and fast.

Bruce closed his eyes and held his breathe, listening to the steps. He waited until the footfalls were practically shaking the floor underneath his feet to lash out, punching the giant man in the throat just as he crossed into the room they were hiding in. The man gagged and staggered backwards, raising his gun in a desperate attempt to fight back.

Bruce wrapped his hand around the barrel and shoved upwards just as it fired, sending the shot astray. His right hand seized up in pain. He ripped the gun out of the man's hands and threw it away, his hand smoldering from the blistering heat emitted by the barrel. He kicked the man hard in the stomach, doubling him over.

Selina jumped in, kicking the man upside the head.

Tweedle Dee crumpled.

That only left Tweedle Dum and then Tetch himself.

It would've been encouraging if Bruce's hand wasn't on fire. His knees buckled and he would've blacked out right then and there if Selina hadn't caught him.

"Don't you dare give up on me…" she chided. "Come on, Bruce, we have to go."

The pain was worse than nearly anything else he'd ever felt. He'd been burned before, back in Arkham, but that was to cauterize a wound. He'd been able to prepare himself for that. Anguish rolled over him in waves.

But Selina was here. He had to protect her.

He pushed himself back onto his feet, shoving his damaged hand into his jacket pocket and throwing his other arm over her shoulders. They limped out of the study through the opposite door, hobbling towards the front door.

Alfred would be there waiting in the car. How had he not heard the gunshots by now?

A wave of panic surged over Selina. What if Tetch had gotten to him first?

She was so distracted that she didn't notice Tweedle Dum appear from an adjacent hallway, not until he had his shotgun leveled at her chest.

Bruce's instincts saved their lives. He dropped to the floor with all of his bodyweight, pulling Selina down along with him as the gun fired. They were centimeters from being torn to shreds.

From the ground, Selina lashed out at their attacker, trying to kick him in the shin. It was too slow, and instead of kicking him he raised his foot and stomped down on her ankle. She cried out as her ankle nearly snapped in half. Bruce reached for the knife he'd tucked away in his belt. The man leveled the gun at his chest and he froze.

His mind, usually racing with different escape plans or counterattack methods, froze.

This is what it was like, huh? As many times as he'd nearly died…this one…

He felt more human in that moment than he had in his whole life.

He would later be ashamed to admit that he felt relief staring down the barrel of that gun. He wasn't suicidal or anything, but the thought of all of this ending was…calming.

Bruce was tired.

A moment later, it occurred to him that there was another person lying next to him.

He couldn't just leave Selina here, right? How could he do that? What if, after he was gone, she died, too?

He couldn't let that happen, he wouldn't.

But what could he do? His hand had frozen on the handle of his knife. His whole body was numb except for the pounding of his heart. How could he get out of this one?

Short answer: he couldn't.

This was where it ended for him. Tweedle Dum wasn't as dumb as he looked. He'd stepped far out of range from where Bruce could grab his gun and avert the shot. If he tried to throw his knife, he'd probably miss. Even if he hit the man, he'd probably still fire the gun out of instincts.

What could he do?

How could he save her?

The gun flew out of the man's hand, skidding harmlessly across the floor. He made an odd guttural sound, like he was choking, his head tilted up at the ceiling as he clawed at his neck. He collapsed, gurgling for a few more seconds before going horribly still.

Bruce looked up. Standing behind where the man had once stood was another man, dressed entirely in black. He wore a mask that covered his entire face and strongly resembled an owl. In his hand was a small, blood-soaked dagger.

He started towards them. Bruce reached for his own knife, but Selina grabbed his arm.

She had a startled look in her eyes, her vision jumping back and forth between the ban in the owl mask and Bruce. "Don't," she whispered breathlessly.

The man slid his knife into his belt and extended a hand to Selina. "Miss Wayne," he greeted. "I have been sent to extract you from the premises. Come with me."

Selina took his hand and he helped her up. The man paid Bruce no attention. He pushed himself up off the ground, keeping his smoldering hand shoved deep in his coat pocket. He wanted to protest, ask who the hell had just saved them, but the yells coming from the poisoned guests in the other room deterred him, if only momentarily. If what he'd heard about Alice Tetch's blood was true, they didn't have much time before a horde of psychotic elitists came surging out of the dining room to destroy them.

Selina grabbed his non-burned arm and pulled him along after the man. He turned left instead of going towards the front door.

"Where are we going?" Bruce called at him.

"The front entrance is barricaded," the Talon responded in a bored, almost robotic voice. "Come with me."

He wanted to keep protesting, but Selina gave him a wary look. She felt the same, but if she was following this guy…

He could trust her. Of that much he was certain.

He complied and followed Selina. She stayed close to the back of the man, unafraid.

They turned a corner, and a snarling billionaire launched herself at them. The man in black slammed her head against the doorframe. With a sickening crack, she collapsed, unmoving.

The man continued on his path as if nothing had happened. Bruce stared at the body for a moment. Who exactly was this man they were following?

Selina yanked his arm, telling him to snap out of it. He turned and stared at her. A pit formed in his stomach.

His vision started to tunnel. Maybe it was the excruciating pain in his hand, or maybe it was from seeing two people murdered in as many minutes. Either way, for a moment, all he could see was Selina.

There was no house in the woods, no man dressed in black. There was no corpse lying at his feet, there wasn't a mob of psychotic elitists bearing down on them.

There was just Selina Wayne, his best friend and his partner, the only person in the world he truly had faith in.

In that moment, he didn't trust her.

Those beautiful, green, sparkling eyes he'd fallen in love with were hard and calloused. There was a body at their feet and she didn't care.

The world around him came flooding back into view. Selina pulled him along after her, trying to catch up with the man in black who seemingly hadn't noticed Bruce's inner struggle.

What was she doing? Why would she keep following this guy? He was killing people!

A surge of energy coursed through Bruce. He surged on ahead of Selina, nearly overtaking the man in black. He ripped his uninjured arm away from Selina's grasp and drew his knife, searching for the next opponent.

If Selina wouldn't stop him from killing the other guests, then Bruce would have to save them himself, albeit not in the most conventional way.

Another crazed guest charged at them, an old judge who Bruce knew had been working with the mob for decades.

He wouldn't feel bad about this.

As the judge came in range, Bruce threw a roundhouse kicked and then tried to punch him in the nose. The kick connected perfectly, but the judge barely seemed to notice it. The punch missed by a hair, and the judge would've decked him if the man in black hadn't kicked his knee out.

Bruce put himself between the fallen judge and the man in black, preventing him from finishing the judge off.

Then, Penguin came around the corner, pistol drawn.

He looked more pissed off than normal.

He leveled the gun at Bruce's chest, announcing, "MISTER BRUCE KYLE, IT IS SO NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN! I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR A _LONG TIME_ , YOU LITTLE SH–"

There was a decisive 'CLINK' noise as the man in black threw a perfectly aimed knife at Penguin's gun. It clattered on the floor.

Bruce charged, trying to reach Penguin before the man in black could throw another knife. A second blade sunk into Cobblepot's leg, and he collapsed before Bruce was anywhere near him.

The man barely acknowledged Bruce. He turned down another hallway, Selina following closely behind him. She held out her hand for Bruce, but he ignored it, choosing to rather carry his knife.

They arrived at a door, which the man in black kicked open. A wave of cool air swept into the house. They stepped out into the night, making a wide berth around the mansion in the woods. Along with the occasional crash, screams of rage emanated from inside. A window in the back of the house shattered, and they quickened their pace.

Finally, they arrived at the driveway where Alfred's car had been replaced by a longer, sleeker, matte-black limousine.

The man in black opened the car door, beckoning them inside.

Selina asked, "Where is Alfred?" staying firmly where she was.

The man in black responded, "Step into the car, Madam Selina."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where Alfred is," Selina retorted, standing her ground.

A feminine voice called from inside the car, "He is safe, but as long as you stand out there, you are not. Please join me, Selina. As for Mr. Kyle, we have provided separate transport back to the city."

"What? No! He's coming with us," Selina argued.

"Selina…" Bruce started, eyeing the man in black and the limousine warily. "You need to get out of here. Do you trust them?"

She looked back and forth between him and the man in black several times before nodding slowly. "Yes, I do."

"Then go. I'll be fine," he insisted. She hesitated. "Go," he repeated. "I'll call you when I get back to the city."

She got up on her tippy toes and kissed him. When she pulled away, there was a hard look in her eyes. "If you forget, I'll kill you," she stated.

He nodded. "I won't. Now go."

She furrowed her brow one last time and then stepped into the limousine. The man in black closed the door and the car rolled out of the driveway, leaving Bruce and the man alone.

When the limo was gone, the man in black pointed down the driveway at a taxi that had just pulled up. He then turned around and walked into the woods, disappearing in the tree line.

Bruce started up the driveway, guilt eating away at him.

Not only had he put Selina in harm's way countless times tonight, he'd let her go off with people he didn't know or trust without a fight.

But, evidently from tonight, they could protect her better than he could. He made the right decision…

He felt like shit. In the six months that she'd gone off to Switzerland, he'd felt unstoppable. He was a _monster hunter_. Yet he'd been completely unable to fend off two oversized bodyguards with shotguns, and he would've gotten Selina killed if it hadn't been for the man in black.

The taxi driver had a blank expression on his face. He didn't ask for money or a destination. As soon as Bruce sat down in the car, he started towards Gotham.

* * *

Kathryn sat inside the limousine, calmly reading her book. She set it aside as the limousine door closed and the car started moving.

Selina studied her, noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes for the first time. As ancient as she had appeared the first time Selina had encountered her, she now nearly resembled a mummy.

She cleared her throat and started, "Hello, Selina."

Selina tried to give a small smile, but it fell flat. "Hi."

Kathryn seemed to read her mind. "Alfred is safe, I assure you. As will be Mr. Kyle once he reaches the city. I take it he can handle himself?"

Selina nodded. "Yes, he can. Where are we going?"

"Back to Gotham," Kathryn coolly replied. "We cannot allow you to return to the Manor, not yet at least. Too many eyes…" she trailed off. "Alfred has already arrived at your new place of residence. We'll be there shortly."

Selina narrowed her eyes and instinctually checked over her shoulder. "You're not gonna knock me out, again, are you?"

Kathryn let out a low chuckle and shook her head. "No, Selina, there will be no need for that. I trust you." She reached into her purse and removed a white owl mask, the one that Selina had hidden away under the floorboards of her closet. The blood drained from her face. How much had they seen? Did they know she was still investigating them?

Kathryn handed the mask to her. "My group has been watching you very closely, Selina, and we believe it is time for you to take your father's place among us. Do you accept?"

Selina regarded the mask with scrutiny, placing it on the seat beside her. She narrowed her eyes and asked, "Who is 'we'?"

Kathryn smirked, as if she knew something Selina didn't. "We have been called many names over the years, patricians, aristocrats, loyalists…but more recently we have decided on a permanent moniker. You see, Selina, our group has protected and ruled over the masses for thousands of generations, affecting history as you know it, ensuring the survival of the pinnacles of human civilization. Babylon, Sparta, Rome, Paris, London, and now Gotham, we've worked in the shadows. We are the watchers of the night. As such, we've taken a namesake befitting of our role: the Court of Owls." She nodded to the owl mask lying beside Selina. "We'd like you to join us, protect this city, ensure the safety of those you love… That is, if you accept our offer."

Selina picked up the mask. Even if it was significantly different from the masks the Talon wore, when she looked at the eyeholes of the mask all she could see was Bruce's dark, cold eyes, staring down at her. It sent a chill down her spine. The idea of wearing such a mask repulsed her.

She cautiously asked, "What will happen if I don't join you?"

Kathryn calmly replied, "You will be left to your lonesome. However, I will not be able to guarantee your protection from other parties interested in our existence. We have no shortage of enemies… But if you join us, you will have an army of the Talon behind you, obedient to your every beck and call. You will be able to properly protect Mr. Kyle, your butler, anyone. That and you will have influence in the operation of the city like you cannot imagine. It's the reason your father sought us out in the first place. In his short time as a member of the Court, your father did many great things, helped thousands of people. Truly, your father was one of the greatest men to ever work in our Court," Kathryn leaned forward and put a hand on Selina's knee, "and I believe you can be even greater than him."

Selina could feel the hooks Kathryn had sunk into her. She knew she was being manipulated, but if she could protect Bruce and Alfred…

And what better way to investigate the Court than from the inside?

She studied Kathryn, her long, gnarled, bony hands, the elegance yet power she carried herself with. She seemed to calm and collected, completely in control of everything around her, not a care in the world.

Selina wanted that.

Maybe that was why she accepted the mask. Maybe it was because she wanted peace. Maybe it was because she wanted to protect the people she loved. Maybe it was out of some plan to bring the whole organization to its knees. Maybe it was because she wanted the power the mask would bring.

No matter the reason, she looked up at Kathryn and nodded. "I accept your offer."

Kathryn smiled. "I am truly glad to hear that, Selina. On behalf of the Court of Owls, I welcome you."

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Bruce arrived back in Gotham.

The driver dropped him off without a word. The scary part was, without telling him the address, he'd taken Bruce straight to the doorstep of his apartment building.

Bruce made his way into the lobby, his right hand still throbbing from the scorching heat of the shotgun's barrel. The pain was reminiscent of the burns his leg had received back in Arkham. He had at least second-degree burns, but parts of his hand had started to go numb.

That was not a good sign to say the least. He hadn't looked at his hand since he'd shoved it into his jacket pocket back at the house in the woods, but he had a bad feeling about what he'd see when he took it out.

He gave a half-nod to Wendy, their building attendant, and started up the stairs. His head felt lighter than normal and his legs far heavier. Half way up the second flight, he had to stop and rest.

He took a deep breath, inwardly screaming at himself to not pass out. He was almost to safety, just a few more steps...

He pulled himself up the last few stairs and hobbled down the hallway. He was exhausted. His hand was throbbing. Only a few more steps…

He fumbled around in his inner pocket for his key as he reached the door.

He stopped halfway, ice running down his spine.

The door was already cracked open, a single beam of light streaming into the dark apartment. He hesitated for a few moments, the throbbing of his hand subsiding temporarily. He slowly drew his knife, holding it out in front of him in a defensive stance.

He took a step forward, pushing the door open a few more inches. "Hello?" he called warily.

No reply.

He took a few more steps, opening the door fully and brandishing his knife. "Hello?" he called again.

No response.

He crept into the apartment, his knife at the ready. The light from the hallway lit up the entrance, shining into the living room. No lights were on in the house, the first light switch being in the living room.

Bruce took a few more cautious steps forwards, listening for signs of an ambush. He reached for the light switch.

"Don't," a familiar voice croaked. Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin. "Don't turn on the lights, Bruce."

"Jean?" Bruce asked, dropping his weapon to his side. He ignored his request and flipped on the switch, filling the apartment with light.

His blood ran cold.

Jean's shirt and neck were soaked with blood. There was a nasty gash running along the side of his neck, and a deep puncture wound near his heart.

"Holy shit," Bruce muttered, rushing for the first aid kit in the kitchen.

"Don't," Jean called. "Stop, come back, Bruce." Bruce did so. Jean held out his right arm. "Take this," he stated, putting a green gemstone in Bruce's hands. "Take this to the League…run, Bruce. They're coming–"

Glass shattered. Their huge window showing the skyline of Gotham broke into a million pieces. A bolt of black metal shot through it, lodging itself into Jean's chest.

Jean took a startled breath. His eyes were wide, like a frightened animal. He wheezed for breath, panic setting in. He opened his mouth to beg for help, but nothing came out.

And then, he died.

Bruce saw the light leave his eyes. He slumped over, mouth agape, unmoving.

No matter how many people Bruce had seen die, he would never forget that image.

A second bolt ripped through the blinds, missing Bruce's head by a mere inch, maybe less.

He ducked behind the wall as a third bolt nearly skewered him. He studied the projectiles that now decorated his living room wall. They resembled arrows, just shorter and sleeker. Crossbow bolts?

He was half-tempted to make a run for the front door, but the thundering of footsteps down the hall made him think otherwise.

He poked his head out in the open for a split second, and then moved back behind his cover. A fourth bolt sunk into the wall, where his head had been mere milliseconds before.

He sprinted across the living room, clearing the space before his hidden adversary had a chance to fire again. He blew through his bedroom door, dropping into a baseball slide and coming up next to his bed. He pulled out a long wooden crate and flipped it open. He removed a spare knife, a pair of brass knuckles, and his assassin robe.

The front door burst open.

Time was up.

He managed to pull the hood over his head as the footsteps arrived at his bedroom. He dove through the open window, landing flat-footed on the fire escape before vaulting over the railing. A crossbow bolt ripped through his hair as he fell. He dropped three stories before reaching out and grabbing the railing of another fire escape (one-handed, of course), stopping his fall momentarily. He dropped again, landing hard on the pavement below.

He glanced up for a moment and saw the glint of metal, and a man in black…

He dove out of the way, rolling next to a storm drain.

He had an idea. It was a disgusting idea, but an idea nonetheless. He took a deep breath, and then slid himself down into the drain. The floor gave way and he slid down the pipe.

He'd never been to a water park before, but after today he didn't really want to.

The slide of water and sewage and all kinds of nasty things let out into the system. He managed to stand upright, avoiding a swim in a foot of human waste and chemical runoff. He used the inside of his jacket to wipe off his hand, drawing his knife from his belt and charging down the pipe.

Behind him, a sliver of light appeared as the manhole covering was slowly lifted off.

Bruce picked up his pace, heading east through the system. He had to put as much distance as possible between himself and the man in black before attempting to resurface. He counted the blocks as he ran, occasionally pausing to check for signs of the man in black.

He arrived at the corner of East 40th and 17th. The police station was across the street from where the manhole would let out. He would probably be safe there.

He checked around the corner once more to see if he was being followed.

The silence in the sewers was deafening.

He started towards the ladder, but something stopped him.

He backed away from the ladder.

It was just in time, too, as a crossbow bolt flew through the rungs where his chest would've been. Bruce moved before he could think, closing the distance between himself and his adversary in three strides. A second bolt was shot at his head, but he side-stepped it. He reached for the man in black's weapon, but when he grabbed it his hand exploded in pain.

In the heat of the moment, he'd completely forgotten about his burnt hand.

He slashed with his knife in a wide arc, putting a few feet of space between himself and the man in black. The man aimed another bolt, and Bruce dove to the side, avoiding it by inches.

He made a really bad decision and threw the knife at his opponent.

The man caught it, regarded it distastefully, and tossed it over his shoulder into the sludge.

The sludge…

Bruce used his now free arm to scoop up as much of the filth as possible, splashing a wave of waste at his opponent. Naturally, the man tried to avoid it. That was all Bruce needed.

He grabbed his brass knuckles from his pocket, closed the distance in a stride, and swung a metal fist at the man in black. It landed clean on his jaw, and the man collapsed into the muck.

Bruce struggled towards the ladder, favoring his severely burnt hand. With a mighty push, he removed the manhole cover and hoisted himself out of the sewer. He emerged on a major street, hundreds of Gothamites bustling about.

He was bloody, covered in crap, and holding a pair of brass knuckles.

Naturally, no one gave him a passing glance.

After sliding the cover back on, he ducked into a nearby alleyway and collapsed behind a dumpster. He rested his head against the cool surface and closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to pass out right then and there. His hand was throbbing, he smelled like shit (literally), and Jean…

He rolled over and threw up.

Jean was dead.

Holy shit…

The men in black had killed him.

But why would they bring him to the city and then chase him? The green gemstone burned a hole in his pocket. What was so important that Jean had died for it?

He wretched, but nothing more came out. He hadn't eaten in how long?

He took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the burning in his mouth and throat.

He glanced across the street. The police station was right there. Ted was right there. He'd be safe there. He just needed to get up and go.

Jean could wait. The burning in his throat and mouth could wait. His throbbing hand could wait.

He forced himself onto his feet and stumbled across the street to the police station. He felt so weak, but it was moments like these when he needed to be strong. By sheer force of will, he made it up the steps and into the precinct. He scanned the room, searching for Ted's desk.

The last time he'd been here was three years ago after he'd gotten picked up at Tin's fight club trying to sell stolen goods. Times were simpler back then, before the assassins chasing Selina, before the gang war, before Galavan, before Strange, before the League… He almost missed it.

"Oi!" an officer called at him. "You alright, kid?"

He grit his teeth and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm looking for my brother, Ted Grant?"

The officer smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah, Ted's this way. I'll show you to him, Bruce."

He followed the cop. Later, it would occur to Bruce that he'd never told the officer his name. In the moment, however, he was just glad to meet someone who didn't want him dead.

They walked through the precinct, down a hallway, and around a corner. They passed the coroner's office and the evidence locker. Bruce started to wonder whether or not the cop had any idea where Ted really was. He'd never seen Ted's desk before, but the bustling background noise on their frequent phone calls made it sound like he was in the middle of the precinct, not the back of the station.

"You okay, kid?" the officer called over his shoulder, noticing that Bruce had started to trail behind.

He nodded, his hand subconsciously itching towards the spare knife tucked away in his belt. "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks Officer…?" he trailed off, asking for the cop's name.

The man gave no response.

They kept walking.

The alarm in the back of his head started going off again. They turned down a corridor that led to an exit sign.

There were another two doors leading to rooms off of the hallway. Bruce prayed that the cop would direct him into one of them.

They passed the first door, and then the second with no such luck.

His hand and head were throbbing in pain, and the acid reflux from vomiting burned his throat. The cop put his hand on the door handle, about to exit the building with Bruce in tow.

Bruce slammed into him from behind. The man's head hit the door, stunning him. Bruce kicked at his leg, knocking him off balance. As the man fell, he raised a weapon and fired a black dart at Bruce's head. It grazed his cheek, missing a killing blow by millimeters.

Bruce didn't give him another chance. He stomped on the fake cop's face, crushing his nose and leaving him rolling in agony.

Bruce kicked him in the head, again, knocking him out. He slumped against the wall, breathing heavily.

Something, or someone, was waiting for him outside that door. They had most likely heard the commotion from inside. The only option was to face them head-on before they wizened up and charged inside.

He shoved himself to his feet and took a wide stance. His knee almost buckled, but he managed to stay upright. He drew his knife. A drop of blood fell from his cheek to his hand.

He took a deep breath, steadying his pulse.

He kicked the door open and charged out of the hallway, dropping into a somersault and rolling up into a fighting stance. He scanned the area for adversaries but found no one.

Besides the reeking dumpster and patrol car, the alleyway behind the police station was empty. He had an idea, a stupid idea, granted, but an idea nonetheless.

He rummaged through the knocked out cop's pockets, eventually finding his keys. He'd never gotten his driver's license (who needed one in Gotham anyways?), he'd never even driven before, but it couldn't be that hard, right?

He dragged the cop into the alleyway and got behind the wheel. There were two pedals, one big and one small. He slammed his foot on the big one, and nothing happened. He slammed down on the other one, and, once again, nothing.

He hadn't started the car.

He slid in the key and the engine hummed to life. Foregoing a seatbelt, he slammed his foot on the smaller pedal again.

The car took off down the alleyway, almost killing a cat and knocking over a dumpster in the first two seconds. He pressed the bigger pedal and the car slowed slightly, but not enough. The car skidded through an intersection as he pulled hard on the steering wheel.

He swerved through traffic, earning several aggravated honks from his fellow drivers. He slammed on the big one (which he determined was the brake) and slowed down to a normal speed.

This wasn't so hard…

He eventually caught his stride. Big pedal slowed the car, little one sped it up, steering wheel turned it. Green means go, red means stop, yellow means go faster. On instinct, he'd started heading north towards Wayne Manor. He'd be safe there…

But would he?

Those people chasing him, the men in the black owl masks, Selina was with them. The Manor wouldn't be safe, it couldn't be.

He felt sick at the thought.

Ok, so he couldn't go to the Manor, and he definitely couldn't go home...maybe the Gym? But the assassins had known he was related to Ted, so of course they'd check there first. He could go south to the Flea. Jack could hide anything or anyone, of that much he was certain. But was that a safe option? Trusting Jack was about as viable an option as turning himself over to the assassins and asking them nicely to not kill him.

Where was he supposed to go?

He took a deep breath as he slowed to a red light. He was alone.

It was almost comforting, knowing that he had no one else to rely on besides himself. He'd lived like that for years before meeting Selina. He may have had a bed with the Grants at the Gym, but he'd survived on his own. He did it then, and he was even stronger now.

He'd find a place to ditch the cop car and then disappear into the Gotham underbelly.

He turned onto a side street and slammed on the gas. He'd go into East Gotham, Penguin's territory. Of all people, he doubted Penguin would be allied with the men in black (especially after the man in black threw a knife at his already bad leg). There were hundreds of places he could hide there for a few weeks, and an extensive black market to get food and supplies. He could beat this.

Bruce almost smiled.

He should've known better.

He turned down another side street (with the intention to ditch the car) and found himself driving straight at a man in a black owl mask, standing in the middle of the road. He was holding something out at the car, but Bruce couldn't tell what.

Then, the windshield shattered and a long, black dart sunk into his chest. He lost control of the car and went careening into the side of a building. The airbags deployed, smacking him hard in the face and breaking his nose. All he could hear was a high, sharp ringing. His hands were stained red with his own blood. He looked down at his chest. A wave of vertigo washed over him. He was bleeding, a lot. The grimy, disgusting, formerly-fancy shirt that Selina had picked out for him was stuck to his chest, a red stain surrounding the dart growing larger and larger by the minute.

He didn't have much time if he wanted to survive this.

He had to get out of the vehicle, escape the assassin, and get immediate medical attention. He didn't know what the bolt had pierced exactly, but it wasn't good. He had a bad feeling that, even if he could get away, he wouldn't get far.

But he couldn't think about that right now.

Step One: Get out of the car.

The door wasn't crushed, so he was able to kick it open. He crawled out of the wreckage and got a good look at his attacker. He was bigger than the other three men in black he'd come across, and, along with the crossbow and daggers, he had a sword strung across his back.

A second dart sunk into the car door, inches from his face.

He tried to catch his breath and make a plan, but he couldn't think.

Running wasn't an option, neither was standing and fighting.

He drew his knife and threw it at the man.

It clattered harmlessly to the ground.

He grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet, staggering out from his hiding place as he pulled on his last pair of brass knuckles.

The man in black drew back another arrow and leveled it at Bruce's chest. Bruce raised his fists in challenge.

"C'mon you son of a bitch," he challenged. "Fight me." The man stared him down, unwavering. "Fight me!" Bruce repeated. " _Fight! Me!_ "

The man in black lowered the crossbow, hooking it back to his belt. He drew a long, curved sword from his back.

The rising sun reflected on the blade. It was a beautiful sword. It reminded Bruce of the two swords he'd helped steal from that warehouse in Bludhaven, with Talia and Jean. That had been quite the night. He'd nearly killed that man in the back alleyway, the one with the two slave girls.

Why hadn't he killed him?

Bruce couldn't remember.

Why had he stopped beating him? What had stopped him? He deserved to die, way more than Jean did at least. So why was Jean dead and that man still lived? It wasn't fair.

The man in the owl mask charged, raising his sword in position to deliver a death blow.

This wasn't fair. He couldn't fight him. He was bloody and bruised and broken.

He was tired.

He shouldn't try to defend himself.

This world was hell. Why keep living in it?

Why keep fighting?

He felt oddly at peace.

Selina would have to forgive him. He'd fought so hard for so long, she'd understand.

If only he'd gotten to say goodbye…

The sword swung and met its mark, slicing deep through his throat. It hurt like hell, but Bruce didn't fight it. He collapsed as the man sheathed his sword.

He stared up at the sky as the sun rose over his city.

He'd never thought about death that much, but he'd always assumed he'd die like this, lying in an alleyway, staring up at the sky while the man who killed him stood over him.

"BRUCE!" a feminine voice shrieked.

It sounded like Selina. It made him happy. At least he'd get to say goodbye.

In a flash, she was flying through the air, twin daggers drawn. Two more men followed behind her, both holding swords. They all wore similar hoods and cloaks.

The three fought the man in the owl mask, overwhelming and bringing him down in an instant.

The girl rushed back to his side, yelling his name.

His vision was fading, but he quickly determined the girl crouched over him wasn't Selina. Her hair was long and dark, not like Selina's short, chestnut curls.

"Bruce, can you hear me?" she asked.

He whispered, "Talia…" and was startled by how rapsy his voice sounded. "Jean, he's in the apartment. He needs help…"

She shook her head, grabbing his hand and squeezing it hard. "We already found him, he's gonna be okay."

Bruce smiled weakly. "Good, that's good…"

Taila squeezed on his hand so hard it hurt. "Don't close your eyes, Bruce. Look at me. Don't close your eyes. Stay awake." She told the two assassins flanking her to bring the car around. "You're gonna be alright, Bruce," she repeated. "Think about Selina. Don't leave her."

He tried to focus on her words, but they became increasingly muddled until he couldn't hear her talking anymore.

"Selina…" he coughed. "They have her," he rasped, pointing at the dead man in black. "Save her, please."

"Stay alive and save her yourself," Talia snapped. "Don't you dare die, Bruce."

He didn't listen. He closed his eyes, content that Jean was safe and Talia would do anything to save Selina.

He thought about her smile...

And with that, he died.

 **A/N: Hi everyone. Like I said before, this chapter took me forever to write, especially the action scenes (which is most of the chapter unfortunately). Thank you all so much for your encouraging comments! It really meant a lot as the past three months between this chapter and the prior one have been brutally busy.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and, if you did, make sure to review. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!**


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